We're Not Lovebirds
by zipporah grace
Summary: In which I try to be funny and write a series of humorous DxS one-shots. Read at your own risk. Up now: There are some things Sam would just like to keep to herself.
1. The Scary Realms of the Internet

**Welcome, mortals, to my DxS one-shot series. I'm keeping it at T because a) it gives me some range on the content of my stories and b) writing sex scenes is awkward. The one time I did write one I thought I was going to be jumped by a nun or something. These will update as my inspiration flows. So you might get three stories in one day or one after two weeks. Expect randomness.**

**Salutations!**

**-ZG**

**#**

_Title: The Scary Realms of the Internet_

_Setting: Before season 3. _**(Most of the time, in my mind, season 3 didn't happen. So there.)**

_Summary: Hang-out time turns weird after the gang stumbles onto a mysterious site called . I'm going to say it…this one has a lot of innuendo._

**#**

For once, Amity Park was free of ghosts.

For the moment, that was.

So, of course Danny Fenton was happy. He walked around all day at school without his ghost sense going off. He didn't have to skip any classes. He didn't get detention. The only beating he got was from Dash Baxter giving him an atomic wedgie. Other than that, nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero.

He never knew how blissful boring could be.

When the last bell rang he met up with Sam and Tucker, who had been talking by Sam's locker. He invited them over to his house.

"Is something acting up in the Ghost Zone again?" Tucker asked.

"Do we need to patrol the city tonight?" Sam asked.

"No," Danny answered. Had ghost hunting really become that engraved into their lives? "Just to hang out. We haven't done that in a while. Besides, there's no ghosts today."

Sam and Tucker glanced at each other and then back at Danny. "Really? No Skulker or Ember?" Tucker asked.

"Nope. Not even the Box Ghost," Danny told them, smiling.

"Well…I guess," Sam said. "Honestly, though, this is going to be weird. The only times we're in each other's houses are for refuge or a place to get you patched up."

"I promise," Danny said, "no ghosts. Just hanging out and acting like a bunch of stupid teenagers."

His two friends smiled.

"I have missed acting stupid," Tucker mused.

"You don't need to act," Sam mumbled. "You just _are_."

**#**

Then again, boredom could be really…boring sometimes.

Danny was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was trying to figure out something to do.

_Maybe we could…no, he's in the Ghost Zone._

_Or perhaps…nope. No ghosts around here._

_Well what about…that's illegal._

Sam sighed as she spun around in Danny's computer desk chair. She always liked being in his room, she had to admit. It wasn't full of the soothing blacks, reds, and purples her room bathed in, but it was comforting. The only thing she had a problem with was the picture of Paulina hidden in the back of his closet. Yes, she had been there. And no, she won't tell you why she was in there in the first place.

Tucker tapped happily away at his PDA.

Sam was annoyed by his gleefulness. "You seem happy," she said.

Tucker looked confused. "Well, yeah. It's the internet. Everything's funny."

"The Internet is full of Myspace drama and pictures of cats," Sam retorted. "I find it to be too…I don't know…"rainbow-sparkly" for my liking."

Danny lifted his head. "I'm going to have to agree. All I can find is games. Nothing interesting."

It was then that Tucker had an idea. "Oh really?" he asked. "Tell me guys, have you ever heard of the dark side of the Internet?"

"What's that?" Danny laughed. "A place where shady websites deal out illegal downloads or something in secret because they're afraid of the internet police?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah. I mean, I know there's, like, porn on the Internet but I think that's as bad as it gets."

Tucker smirked. "Oh, no. It gets worse. Does the word 'fandom' sound familiar?"

The blank look on their faces gave him his answer.

"A fandom is a group of people obsessed with a topic of media. Music bands, tv shows, movies…they all have fandoms. People who live and breathe the show's existence. I myself belong to a couple comic book fandoms, but it's nothing too serious. I don't ship couples like the crazy ones do."

"Tuck, what's the point?" Danny asked. But this was interesting, and far more enjoyable than lying on a bed doing nothing.

Tucker got up and began typing into Danny's computer. "There's a place where these fandoms unleash their fury. I've visited it once or twice, and it's not for the weak-hearted. There's violence, character deaths, and smut. Lots of smut."

Sam was fond of this idea. "So…a place of total chaos?"

Tucker nodded. "Yup."

Sam smiled. "Cool."

They joined Tucker as he typed in the URL for a website called . It was a fanfiction website. Tucker then proceeded to scroll into the popular section.

"Whoa…they have ones for Nightmerica!" Sam pointed out.

"Superman fanfictions?" Danny asked warily.

"Don't go there," Tucker advised. "They do awful things with Kryptonite in those stories."

Danny and Sam cringed.

Tucker got up from his seat. "Browse as you please. And _then_ you'll see that the Internet is more than Myspace and cats."

He then proceeded to lightly tap the computer. The big hulking piece of technology sputtered and the screen flickered.

"Aw, man, Tucker!" Danny exclaimed. "You busted my computer!"

"I barely touched it!" Tucker defended.

It was then that the computer screen flickered back on. But instead of the all-over popular page, it had changed to cartoons.

"They have ones for cartoons?" Sam asked. "Can you imagine, someone making a fanfiction about Dora the Explorer?" She started cracking up.

Danny laughed along, too. "Yeah, they wouldn't have much to base it on, would they?"

Tucker sat back and watched. _Lovebirds_, he thought.

Danny refocused his eye on the screen and caught something. "Whoa," he said.

Sam calmed down. "What?"

He sat down in his computer desk chair and placed the mouse over the object of his interest.

"But that's impossible…"

Tucker raised an eyebrow and rejoined the not-yet-a-couple. "What's wrong?"

"This site had a Danny Phantom category," Danny pointed out. "And it has almost 14,000 fanfictions alone."

Tucker squinted. "Funny. I've never seen that there before." He looked around. "What's 'Fairly OddParents' and 'The Winx Club'?"

Danny looked at his friends. "Should we check it out?"

Both Sam and Tucker nodded. Danny clicked on it. Soon there was a flurry of reactions.

"All these people know my secret?"

"Well, you've changed in public before…."

"Me and…Vlad? Gross!" Danny exclaimed.

"When did I have a mental breakdown? I'M COMPLETELY SANE!" Sam yelled.

"I got with Valerie! Time for a victory dance," Tucker said.

"In your dreams, Tucker," Danny snorted.

"And apparently in this person's mind, too. Woohoo!"

"…in all of these I'm majorly depressed. I like the sentiment, but Jesus Christ." Sam sighed.

"Whoop! I got with Paulina!" Danny cried out in victory.

Sam glared.

"I mean…oh, crap. I got stuck with Paulina," he corrected.

"Dude, you're totally whipped," Tucker told him.

"Am not!" both Sam and Danny retorted. They looked at each other and the looked away, blushing.

Tucker was about to point out their cluelessness when his phone beeped. "Aw, man. Mom's calling me home."

"Now?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…apparently I'm dish duty tonight," Tucker sighed. He opened the door to Danny's bedroom. "See you lovebirds later!"

"We're not lovebirds!" both exclaimed. Another awkward glance.

Danny cleared his throat. "So…uh…so should we keep going?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam agreed. "Let's see what other stuff they have!"

Sam leaned over Danny as he began scrolling through the fics. He was trying very hard not to blush and let his hormones get the best of him.

He scrolled for a while until Sam put her hand on top of his to stop him. Another awkward glance.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said. "They put you in relationship…with yourself? I never saw you as that conceited, but…"

"Well you have to admit," Danny said, "I'm pretty damn sexy."

_You have no idea_, Sam thought, but shooed it away. She could not take any more of this awkwardness.

So instead she punched him on the arm and laughed. "Maybe you are that conceited."

Suddenly an idea struck Danny's mind. "Hey…maybe they have stories about us."

Sam's eyes widened. "And what do you mean by 'us'?"

Danny blushed. "You know…together. I mean, they paired me up with a bunch of guys—and you have no idea how many strange a creepy dreams I'm probably going to have because of it—so they probably paired me with you, a girl, at some point."

"Okay," Sam said uneasily. She wasn't sure how this would turn out. It was then that she realized that she still had her hand on his. She took it away.

Danny looked up at Sam for a moment and then scrolled to the options boxes. He placed in his name and Sam's and placed the rating for all. He gulped and clicked "Enter".

"Holy crap," Sam commented. "There's, like, a hundred pages of stories about us."

"Yeah…'another Amethyst Ocean fic'…what's Amethyst Ocean?"

"Maybe it's like our couple name. They call you and yourself Pitch Pearl."

"But why with all the weird names?"

Sam walked over to his bed and sat down, thinking. "Well…Pitch Pearl sort of makes sense. You're hair when you're human is black and your hair when you're a ghost is white…so pitch black and pearl white. Pitch Pearl."

Danny spun around in his chair. "Makes sense. But what about Amethyst Ocean?"

Sam took a second to think about that one. "Okay! I've got purple eyes and you've got blue eyes. Amethyst purple and ocean blue." She gestured to herself and Danny. "Get it?"

"I think so," he said, turning back to the computer. "Let's check it out."

After a couple minutes Sam rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Fluffy, mushy stuff. Excuse me while I gag."

"Let's find an interesting one," Danny said, clicking out of that fanfiction and scrolling down a little more. He found one that sounded interesting and read the description out loud. "_Rules of the Heart_ by PhantomFentonLuvr578."

"Someone's got a crush on you!" Sam said in a sing-song voice mockingly.

He glared at her and continued reading. "What happens when two souls are destined to meet each other? One-shot with lots of lemonade." He turned to Sam. "What's 'lemonade' supposed to mean?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's set in a juice bar?"

Danny gestured Sam to come over. "Come on. Let's read it."

He clicked it.

Five minutes in their eyes got wide. Cartoon-wide.

"We're…we're…" Sam breathed.

"Yeah," Danny agreed. They couldn't stop reading.

"And you…you're…"

"Yeah. And you…"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't know how to feel about this? Should I be shocked? Flattered? Disgusted? Happy? Angry? I don't know."

"And it's so…graphic. I mean, do you think you could do that if you went intangible?"

"I honestly don't want to know right now," Danny cringed. He then realized that they were still reading. "Uh…we should probably stop reading.  
Sam nodded. "And never read again."

Danny clicked out of the Internet and exhaled. He turned around to see that Sam had flopped onto his bed again, looking up at the ceiling. Funny, she being on his bed. It was just like in the fanfi—

Nope. He was not going to think of Sam like that. At least, not with her here, anyway. The mind of a teenage boy was an unpredictable thing.

"I will never be able to _unsee_ that," Sam proclaimed. "I'm going to have to wash my brain out or something." She crossed her arms over her chest, her legs dangling over the side.

Danny joined her, mirroring her position. "It's funny that people would think that we'd be together, you know?"

"And doing…that stuff," Sam grimaced, her face twisting.

"I have to compliment them on making me muscular, though," Danny pointed out. "Gives a good self-esteem boost."

Sam laughed. "Yeah. Because everything they said in there _actually_ happened. Ha!"

Danny frowned. "And the self-esteem boost is gone."

"But still…who knew so many people shipped us together?"

"A lot of people are rooting for us…wherever they are."

"It's just like high school all over again," Sam pointed out. "Calling us lovebirds. Thinking we're together…ugh."

"I mean, it's not like we like each other like that, right?" Danny asked jokingly. But he was regretting it. Because he always regretted telling a lie. Sam was silent. He turned his face to her. "Right?"

Sam turned her face to him. He realized that they were very close together. Sam had realized it, too. And maybe it was the story or the hormones, but they didn't move.

_Huh…her eyes are sort of Amethyst-y if you at them_, Danny thought.

_Ocean blue…hmmm… _Sam realized what she was doing. _Sam, get your head out of the colorful rainbow fountain and breath!_

She exhaled.

They were moving in closer…closer…

And then the door opened. "Hey, my mom let me come back after dinner-" Tucker started to say, but then he noticed the scene. "Am I interrupting something?"

The two teenagers turned their attention to Tucker and sat up quickly, exchanging glances at each other.

"Uh, no!" Danny reassured. "You weren't interrupting anything!"

"Yeah," Sam giggled nervously. She blushed and swallowed. "Nothing going on here…"

Tucker raised an eyebrow. _Lovebirds._

There was a pause.

"Well, I better get home!" Sam said, getting off of the bed. She grabbed her bag. "I'll see you guys later! Text me if something ghostly goes on." She looked around the room and when her eyes got to Danny she went red again. "Bye!"

The door slammed shut.

Tucker was smirking at Danny, eyebrow still raised.

"What?" Danny asked defensively.

"Danny and Sa-am sitting in a tree," Tucker sang. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Forget it, Tucker," Danny ordered. "Nothing was going on. _No-thing._"

"Sure," Tucker drawled. "You just keep saying that."

Danny flopped onto his bed again.

**#**

**It's alive! The Amethyst Ocean one-shot series is alive!**

**Reviews are very much appreciated. I want to know whether I failed it or nailed it on this one.**

**I'm planning on making these humorous. I agree with Sam…some fluff is so mushy sometimes. So I decided that, hey, I'm going to make a funny series!**

**Unless this wasn't funny at all. Which could be true.**

**I love you all so much!**

**-ZG**


	2. Fate Likes to Taunt Me

**Thanks for the awesome reviews for my first try! I'm glad I didn't completely fail…**

**#**

_Title: Fate Likes to Taunt Me_

_Setting: mid-season 2, I think, for the present tense. Pre-series for the flashback/main part of this story._

_Summary: Sam pinpoints the exact moment her shameful secret popped up: a camping trip during eighth grade._

**#**

There are many things that I can admit with no shame.

I am a Goth.

I hate mainstream stuff.

I love the paranormal.

But there are some things that take time for me to admit. You'd have to coax it out of me or find out for yourselves. But getting me to say it would take a lot of work.

My family's filthy rich.

I used to collect Care Bears when I was ten.

I like Danny Fenton.

Usually, I would add 'as a friend' to the end of that sentence. After all, discovering you have feelings for your best friend since second grade is like losing a family member: you go through the five stages of grief.

For the longest time I was in denial, the first stage of grief. And then I got angry at Danny for being Danny, resulting in Tucker thinking I was having "my time of the month". The second stage of grief. Then I started trying to trade him out for the lead singers of my favorite bands, AKA bargaining, the third stage. I got sad; visualizing the worst possible scenario should I tell him how I feel. So, depression…the fourth stage. And now I'm at acceptance. Hesitant acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless.

So, per Jazz's request, I am to pinpoint when these feelings decided to pop-out into the scary move that is my life.

When I started getting these feelings it was _long_ before the Portal incident. It was more like the beginning of eighth grade.

I was well into my inner Goth. Seventh grade had been a shaky year, trying to figure out where to fit in. Then I just decided to screw it. After all, fitting in made no sense. You couldn't have any fun there. It wasn't me.

But I had finally found it. The me I was proud with.

At the beginning of every year our science teacher, Ms. Jarvis, took her class on a camping trip. Yes, I know. I'm surprised I didn't have Mr. Lancer, too.

I, Danny, and Tucker were all excited. I mean it was a camping trip! Dirt, freaky stories by the fire, and s'mores. Lots of s'mores.

And not to mention the eerie woods that surrounded the campsite. That was my favorite.

As we grabbed our gear to head to the site, Danny and Tuck began talking about superheroes.

"I mean, all these superhero guys have the stupidest catchphrases," Danny said. He didn't look much different than what he looks like now. He was five inches shorter. And so was Tucker. It was that awkward part of middle school where I towered over every boy I met. "Spiderman always says, 'My spidey sense is tingling'. Wouldn't you think after a while that'd began to sound old? And weird?"

"I don't know, dude," Tucker shrugged. "The idea sounds tempting. What if you became a superhero? Wouldn't you like to have a catchphrase or something?"

Danny laughed. "Yeah, because I'll gain superpowers one day. Right."

Yes, I realize the irony. Our group has always attracted irony.

Our whole class of forty or so kids gathered in front of Ms. Jarvis, who started reading off the tent pairings. I only heard the ones that mattered.

"Daniel Fenton and Tucker Foley at campsite 5F," Ms. Jarvis announced.

My two best buddies high-fived each other.

Great, now I'd be stuck with some girly-girl who could barely stand getting a smudge of soil on her nail somewhere on the other side of the camping grounds.

"Samantha Manson," Ms. Jarvis called out. I growled. Ugh. _Samantha._ "You'll be paired with Paulina Sanchez at campsite 1B."

_Fate, I had thought that last sentence sarcastically. Stop playing cruel jokes on me_, I thought. I glared at the girl I was being paired with. She glared back. Pink and black may have been a fashion statement, but in my book they always clashed. Always.

Once everyone was assigned to somebody I steered clear of the confusion and headed straight for the campsite. I could _not_ drag out having to put up with Paulina. It was better if I told her then and there not to talk to me and get it done with.

I set up the tent while I waited for her. Obviously she was going to be of no help to me.

A half an hour later I was sitting in the corner, reading by the lamplight. All my shit was piled up and organized. It was peaceful, actually. Like having an outdoor room.

Until Paulina unzipped the tent.

She noticed by camping gear. "Wow. Depressing, much?" she asked.

"Wow. Shallow, much?" I retorted.

Paulina huffed. "Well you're going to have to scoot your stuff over. I need room for my things."

I peered out the tent. The girl had five freaking suitcases.

"You realize that we're only staying for the weekend, right?" I asked her.

"Can't a girl be precactus?" Paulina responded.

"I believe its 'precautious'," I corrected. "And yeah. By all means bring a parka. But your whole closet?"

"Ha! You think this is my closet."

I looked up to the sky. "Kill me now. I don't care how you do it or how fast it is. Just kill me now."

It was pretty much like that for the next 24 hours. My serene black area had now been reduced to a corner. Meanwhile, Pauline built up a whole fortress of suitcases and clothes. I was squashed in the corner.

The first night was the night I found out Paulina had a snoring _and_ sleep-talking problem. It was a _joy_.

The second night, however, was much more interesting.

I had barely drifted into sleep when I heard the tent unzip. Paulina was adamantly against going out to the outhouses, so I knew it couldn't be her.

"RAPIST!" I yelled, swiftly kicking the intruder in between the legs. He crumpled and whimpered.

I turned on my lantern and gaped. "Tucker?"

"Hi," he squeaked, his whole face puckered. Danny, unscathed, was right behind him.

"Sorry, my mom told me to do that if a strange guy was coming into my tent," I apologized.

"Since when do you listen to your mom?" Danny asked.

"I don't," I told him. "But if anyone knows how to scare off strangers it's my mom. And I didn't feel like getting violated tonight."

"You could've warned me," Tucker whispered.

I knit my eyebrows together. "So why are you guys here? What, you want to take pictures of Paulina sleeping? Because it isn't very attractive."

"Paulina…" both boys droned. Ugh, hormones. Nasty things. I snapped my fingers and they were out of their trance.

Danny smiled. "We're here to rescue you."

"It looks like hell in here," Tucker said. "We're going to go have fun."

"Reckless fun?" I asked.

"Chaotic fun," they confirmed.

I nodded. "Let's go."

I slipped on my combat boots and brought my lantern along. The campsites were dead silent except for us walking around.

"So what should we do?" Tucker asked.

"I don't know," Danny said. "Raid the mess hall?"

"If you want to get explosive diarrhea, sure," I commented. An idea struck me. "Let's go look around in the woods!"

"What?" both boys asked.

"Think about it," I told them. "There are so many possibilities in there. We might find wolves, treasure…a dead body!"

"I watched all five Zombie Janitor movies a couple nights ago," Danny said. "I think I've seen enough dead bodies."

I roll my eyes and hook the lantern on my shoulder. I take both of their arms. "Come on, Daniela and Tuckerbell," I ordered. "It's going to be fun!"

I dragged them into the trees and looked at them sternly.

"Come on, Sam," Tucker whined. "We might get lost…or murdered. And I have so much to live for!"

I crossed my arms. "Are you guys mice or men?"

They glanced at each other and then turned back to me. "Mice," they said in unison.

I groaned. "Fine. You two fairy princesses go off and play in your magic castle. _I'm_ going for a real adventure."

I turn around and waited for them to speak.

"Okay," I heard Tucker say. _Well, that sums up our friendship._

But then I heard Danny speak. "Come on, Tuck! No one should go out there alone!"

"Fine. You go out there and protect your girlfriend," I heard Tucker respond. "But I'm going back to the tent. Make sure you don't get chopped to pieces by an axe while you're out there. You still owe me ten bucks from last week's bet."

I heard footsteps coming up from behind as I slowed my pace. Was I blushing? Yes, I was blushing. But why? Tucker had called me Danny's "girlfriend". He'd used that word to taunt Danny and before, but this was the first time I actually cared. Because I _liked_ the idea of being called his girlfriend.

Whoa, Manson. Pace yourself. After all, it's been a whole two years and you've still got nothing. Fifteen-year-old you is not impressed with herself.

"Hey, wait up!" Danny demanded.

I toned down the blush, smiled, and faced him. "I knew you'd turn around," I said.

He was panting. "Well," he gasped, "it's a lot more fun than watching Tucker sleepwalk."

I laughed. "Well, let's go see what we can find before the sun comes up and the counselors do their rounds."

We trekked for a couple minutes, cracking jokes and pushing each other around. Fun times, like always.

But then we heard a snapping sound.

Danny whipped around. "Was that you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Was that you?"

He also shook his head. But then he exhaled. "Maybe it's just the wind or something. Come on, let's keep walking."

We resumed our activities. But the snapping noise just wouldn't quit.

"Maybe it's an animal," he figured.

"Or maybe it's a ghost," I realized. I smiled. "Sweet. Haunted forest."

"Sam, you know how much I hate ghosts," Danny reminded me, shifting uncomfortably.

Yeah. Before the whole accident, Danny was just like any other crowd member during a horror movie: screaming and flailing at anything paranormal. Back then, the Box Ghost would've given him nightmares.

The superpowers toughened him up.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Come on, Danny," I laugh. "I'm just joking."

"Well don't," he said bitterly, rubbing his arm.

My face fell. I always hated making my best friends feel uncomfortable.

So I pushed him a little. "Hey, I'm sorry okay? No more ghosts."

He looked up, smiled, and pushed me back. "Okay. But seriously, that noise is starting to creep me out."

"It's probably nothing," I denied.

In all honesty, my skin was radiating heat from where he had placed his hand to push me. That had never happened before. It was a nice feeling, but strange. I rubbed the spot.

I laughed and smiled. "It's probably just a little rabbit. You know, like the ones Jazz used to collect? With those tiny tails and big eyes…adorable. No threat."

"Sam…" Danny's face and voiced reeked of absolute fear.

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"B-behind you," Danny stuttered. "G-gho-g-g-gho…"

"Ghost?" I asked. Danny nodded. I turned around. Standing behind was a green, homicidal-looking bunny. Yes, I said bunny. But this bunny had razor-sharp buck teeth and red eyes that bore into your soul. Plus it was nine feet tall.

The creature roared and opened its jaws. It looked like it was about to chomp on something, but what? There was nothing here except…

Me.

Oh no.

I didn't have time to scream. As soon as the ghost-rabbit's murderous overbite started to hone in on me I felt someone push me away from the danger. Danny had his arms wrapped around my waist and his face covered in dirt. He had just saved me.

_He looks so cute when he's dirty like that_, one side of my brain thought.

_Shut up_, the other side ordered. _Thank him and get the hell out of there. You can daydream and lust away AFTER you survive._

I don't know how long I had been staring at him, but it must have been longer than usual since he started giving me his best "WTF" face. I shoved him off of me.

"We need to go," I said simply.

"You think?" Danny responded sarcastically. The Easter Bunny from Hell was turning its attention towards us again.

We made a break for it.

We tripped over grass and branches as we headed back in the direction from which we came.

"How do we get rid of this?" I asked/yelled as we ran for our dear lives. The creature was gaining on us.

"My tent!" Danny answered.

His tent?

Was there some sort of drug in the dirt he accidentally inhaled?

I had to trust him, though. Danny wasn't one to ditch me.

We steered towards his campsite, the demon bunny just fifteen feet behind us.

"Run, run, run!" I yelled. We reached the tent and dived inside. The hopping was getting louder and louder each passing moment.

I looked over to Danny. He was fumbling with a remote, pressing random buttons.

"My parents wired the whole tent with ghost-hunting stuff," he explained. "I never thought I'd have to use it."

Outside I hear a couple lasers go off, but the hopping is still getting closer.

"Ghost shield…ghost shield…" Danny mumbled as he searched through the buttons of the remote. "Aha! Ghost shield!"

With a press of a button the hopping had stopped and there was screech accompanied by the sound of electricity surging.

I unzipped the tent. We were surrounded by a dome of green ectoplasmic electricity.

"Whoa," I said.

Danny nodded. "I can't believe that one of their inventions actually _worked_."

"So no ghosts can get in?" I asked. On the inside I was slapping myself. Duh. It's a _ghost shield_. Stop acting dumb.

Danny shook his head and smiled. "Nope. Only humans can pass through this thing. It helps with the mosquito problem, too."

"Well, thanks," I said. "I owe you a gigantic Slurpee when we get home." I looked around. "Paulina might've noticed I'm gone. I should probably head out."

I was halfway through the tent entrance when he grabbed my wrist. That warm feeling was starting up again.

_I should really have myself checked out when I get home_, I thought. _That feeling's never happened before. Maybe you have a terminal illness._

I turned to Danny. "What?"

"That thing—Peter Cottondoom for whatever—might still be out there. It just got shocked for a while," he told me. "And I don't want you to get hurt because I let you back to your tent."

"So what do you propose I do?" I asked, putting my free hand on my hip. He was still holding my wrist…oh Jesus…

Control yourself! You do not fall for sappy stuff.

"Just stay in here with Tucker and me for the night," he suggested. I looked over to Tucker. The guy was out like a light.

I sighed. "Okay. But if we get in trouble for this it was all _your_ idea, got it?"

He took his hand off my wrist and held it up in surrender. "The pleasure's all mine."

I smiled and crawled back inside the tent. I started smoothing out the bare part of the tent that neither Danny nor Tucker occupied.

"Got a blanket?" I asked.

"You're actually going to sleep like that?" Danny responded.

"What do you mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"It's freezing out here. No way a blanket is going to cover up your band shirt and PJ shorts," he pointed out. Out of insecurity I crossed my arms over myself. He scooted to the farthest point of the tent. "Get into my sleeping bag. You'll be warmer here."

I was suspicious. After all, he is a guy. But he's _Danny._ He's a guy who's completely clueless. So I nodded and filled the space he's made. He was right. It was nice and warm in there.

Running away from Satan's class pet can really wear a kid out. So I easily fell asleep.

Next thing I knew there was a bright light. I didn't dare open my eyes. Never been a morning person. Never will be. But I realized my position had changed. My arm was over something, and my head wasn't resting on a pillow anymore.

The last thing I could remember was getting into Danny's sleeping bag and falling asleep.

With Danny.

"Miss Manson!" I heard someone gasp. It was our teacher, Ms. Jarvis. I then realized my position.

Oh shit.

I had cuddled up next to Danny.

I opened my eyes to make sure. Yep. His t-shirt.

"AHHHHHH!" I screamed out of surprise and embarrassment.

Danny woke up, saw where I was, and screamed too. "AHHHHHH!"

We continued screaming as we scurried away from each other, looked at each other, and up at our glaring teacher. We stopped simultaneously and looked over to Tucker, who was grinning.

Damn it.

It wasn't a "damn it" as in I didn't like it. Danny's quite comfortable, actually. But it was a "damn it" as in people might get the wrong idea.

And Fate likes to make my life miserable.

Ms. Jarvis looked at us. It wasn't a very pure-looking sight. Our hair was tussled from falling in the woods. I had snuggled up next to him. We were in his sleeping bag. The odds were not in our favor.

Ms. Jarvis shook her head and wrote something down on her clipboard. "I swear it's happening younger and younger each passing year," she mumbled. She got out of the tent.

"So…Danny and Sam…" Tucker said, wiggling his eyebrows. He pumped his arms back and forth. "Bow-chicka-bow-wow."

I punched him in the arm. "Shut up, Tucker. Nothing happened."

"Then can you care to explain _this_?" he inquired, gesturing to us. I blushed and got out of the sleeping bag.

We told him the story of what happened after he left (I would say abandoned) us in the woods. Knowing Danny's parents and what he had gone through it sounded believable. He nodded and accepted it.

But out in the mess hall everyone was either glaring at us or patting Danny on the back. He looked at them, annoyed.

"We didn't do anything!" he defended. "I swear!"

Tucker and I sat across from him. Tucker kept giving me glances. I couldn't help but blush whenever he defended our relationship. It was cute. Sue me.

Tucker finally nudged me while Danny burrowed begrudgingly into his hash browns.

"You like him, don't you?" he whispered.

I looked at him, shocked. I mean, did I? I didn't before. But now…I just didn't know.

"I don't know," I whispered back, blushing madly. I was trying not to laugh. Things like this always made me laugh. "Maybe. It's just…gah. That's crazy talk, Tucker. I don't like him."

"Yes you do," Tucker persuaded. I glared at him. "Come on, Sam. You're red all over. Even if you keep saying that you don't like Danny I'll know that it's a lie."

I sighed. "Fine," I whispered back. "I may—or may not—like him. Happy now?"

"Who do you like?" Danny asked, his interest looking suddenly peaked.

The redness wouldn't stop. "Oh, nobody. It's nothing important." I started laughing wildly. I gulped. "I'll…tell you later."

_Keep yourself in control, Manson, or you might screw up this friendship._

Danny shrugged. "Okay."

Tucker shook his head. "Clueless."

Later, when Danny asked again, I managed to squeeze out that it was just the lead singer for a band I liked. He took it. I guess the ghost powers never took away his obliviousness.

So there you go, Jazz. That's when these mysterious, gushy, gaggy feelings sprung up. Proof that I _am_ a teenage girl.

We never discussed the event after that. I mean it was mega-awkward for the both of us. But some nights I like to think about it. It was the best time of my life. You know, besides everyone thinking that me and Danny did stuff and Paulina calling me a slut for a week. It was nice.

But if you tell anyone about this…the camping trip…what actually happened…and _especially _me liking Danny…

If you say a _word_ about this, I'll kill you.

And that is something I can shamelessly admit.

**#**

**Second one-shot…done! I hoped you liked it. Danny being scared about ghosts came from a post on Tumblr and watching Memory Blank. I hope you liked it!**

**Review, pretty please! Your feedback motivates me to write! I'd be lost without you!**

**-ZG**


	3. FirstAid

**Bwahahaha yay! I'm glad you guys are liking these one-shots. I just realized that all my one-shots so far have had MAJOR sexual tension. And I'm fine with that. You know why? I. LOVE. SEXUAL. TENSION. With a passion. Which may explain this next story…**

**#**

_Title: First-Aid_

_Setting: Anytime before PP, really. It's just sort of...in the series. I can't pinpoint it._

_Summary: "Sam and I should really set up a system to know when we're going over to each other's houses. If we did earlier, then this would've never happened. But then again, I sort of liked what happened…"_

**#**

Who'd have guessed that when coming to Sam's house for first-aid I would leave with more injuries than I had before?

That's life for you. A cruel pain in the butt.

I guess you could call it my fault, but it was also hers in a way. I mean, she knew Johnny 13 had been lurking around again, doing God-knows-what with God-knows-who just to get Kitty jealous again. Man, and I thought _I_ had problems.

Sam and I should really set up a system to know when we're going over to each other's houses. If we did earlier, then this would've never happened. But then again, I sort of liked what happened…

Fenton, snap out of it. You're better off chasing after girls way out of your league. You know it's going to fail, so it won't hurt as much. But being dumped by Sam would probably kill whatever's left of your soul. What she did was out of impulse, in the moment. It had happened before.

Um, yeah. On with the story.

Anyways, she knew that I would most likely get a little beaten up when having to deal with his Shadow. I couldn't go home bruised and bleeding. The last time that happened I had to fake a story to my parents. No one in our house trusts hamsters now because of it.

Shadow had done a number on me. Who knew that a transparent blob of darkness could do so much?

I wince at the feeling of the wind on my upper right arm. He'd struck me there first. No mercy. Why was I the only ghost with a hero complex?

I near the tall mansion-like apartment building. Of course, it's all owned and occupied by one family, but an apartment building nonetheless. I can easily spot Sam's window. It's the only one in Amity with black curtains and a small herb garden growing out of the window box.

Usually I'd just go in there, knock on the glass, and phase myself through so that she could patch me up. But tonight I needed something to pick up my mood. After all, being beaten by a shadow isn't a great self-esteem boost. And you know what makes me the happiest? Scaring Sam.

I'd only done it successfully once or twice. I have to admit, the girl has a keen sense of premonition and hearing. The horror movies helped. But when I did get her scream or jump, it was the funniest thing in the world.

Not to mention, she looked kind of…well…cute when she was scared.

But I'd never admit that.

And you won't either. I have a Ghostly Wail and even though I sort of am afraid to use it I _will_ use it.

So I slip through the wall, reappearing in a darkened area. I wait for the night vision to properly kick in again. Let's see. Purple dresses, black jeans, her school clothes, stacks of journals, and an old stuffed bear collection (damn, I wish I brought my phone). Yep. I am in Sam's closet.

I can hear something coming from Sam's room.

Oh dear god, she's singing.

I mean, she isn't as bad as Tucker. But she isn't Ember either. She's this nice middle ground: not ear-bleeding but also not hypnotizing. She's okay.

I can hear her singing some song I can't make out. I turn invisible and phase through the closet door, my body paused halfway as I see the image that leads to my downfall.

Sam in singing and dancing like a patient at a mental ward.

Sam is vocally beating the crap out of her hairbrush, standing on her bed. A male voice is coming from her stereo, and she's singing along to it.

"_There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses, it's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses!_" she's singing. "_At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains, add a few more of your least favorite things!_"

I try to suppress how into the song she is, and then I look at the rest of her.

Sam's doing this all in her underwear.

I can't blame her…I'll shamefully admit that I sing along to something in my boxers every once and while. I even tried to do the Risky Business scene while my parents were out. Let's just say it didn't work and wooden floors are more slippery than they seem.

But I'm a guy. Seeing a guy in his underwear is funny.

Seeing a girl? That's completely different.

I have to give props to Sam for covering herself up so that it looked like she _didn't_ buy lace underwear. I expected that she just had those plain ones you saw at Wall-Mart that cost five bucks. But this is black (no dur, Fenton, she's Sam) and definitely not something your grandma would wear.

I should leave. It may be a longer period of being in pain, but Jazz could get me all patched up.

But I don't. Why? Because I'm a stupid teenage boy who gets distracted the minute I see anything regarding the hidden realms of the female anatomy.

Wow, that was a lot of big words. Lancer must be getting to me.

She can't see me. So maybe, just for a moment, I can pretend I like Sam. Because I really don't. Or at least, I think I don't…

I'm too distracted to notice that my grip on invisibility has gotten loose. I'm visible again, but I don't see it until it's too late.

All Sam probably sees is a guy looking out of her closet to see her in her underwear.

Which is why I really should've expected this to be her reaction.

"_What a wonderful caricature of intima…_AHHHHHH!" she screamed, trying to cover herself. She gets off of the bed, glaring. I snap out of my train of thought. You could call it a trance, but that would I mean I'm attracted to Sam. Which I'm not…sort of…

"Pervert!" she yells, and all I see is her fist before I black out.

The next I know I'm laying on something soft and velvety. Sam's comforter. I look at my feet. Red sneakers. I must've changed back when I passed out.

My right eye is pulsating with pain.

"Urnghhh," I moan. I place my had on my eye, the movement causing the wound on my upper arm to start hurting again. "Ughhh."

"Danny?" I hear someone say. It's Sam. "Danny, are you awake?"

I open my eyes. So I was right about being on Sam's bed. If that doesn't add to the whole sexual tension that is fuming this story, I don't know what does. Am I right, author? (_Somewhere, in a dark room with a laptop, the author looks up. Where the hell did that come from?_)

Sam has dressed into a long t-shirt with the name for some band I don't know plastered all over. She's sitting next to me with a first-aid kid in her lap.

"Yeah," I answer. "Yeah, I'm awake."

She smiles. "Good."

She then proceeds to slap me across the face.

"Ow!" I cry out. "What as that for?"

"For being a creep!" she says. "This is a new low, Danny. Even Tucker would be ashamed."

"I didn't mean to see you…like that," I explain. "I was just coming in here to get myself patched up!"

"Well then why didn't you knock on the window like always?" she asks.

"I was sort of planning on trying to scare you," I confess. I laugh. "It kind of worked."

Sam glares at me. "Damn right it worked. You scared the living crap out of me! I was _this close_ to calling the police if I hadn't noticed that the guy I had just knocked out was phased halfway through the door."

"Look," I say, sitting up. My body aches. Ouch. "I'm sorry I walked in on you like that. It'll never happen again, okay? I promise. I don't think my face can take any more of a beating."

Sam laughs. "Yeah. I do throw a mean left hook."

"I can see that," I tell her, wincing. "But back to why I came here. Could you patch me up? I don't want to lie to my parents _again_. There aren't a lot of things we have left to ban for the sake of my safety."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, sure."

She halfway through putting the gauze on my knee when I start speaking again.

"So…what song where you singing before you, you know, socked me in the eye?" I ask with a laugh.

I see her go pale. "I'd rather we just forget this ever happened."

"Oh, come on, I just want to know!"

"No, Danny!" she defends.

"Well, why not?" I ask.

"Because," she explains, taping the gauze down, "this whole thing is just embarrassing and awkward, especially for me."

"Oh, please," I dismiss. I smile. "Listen. How about, to even out the playing field, you can catch me singing 'Somebody Told Me' in my boxers the next time you come over. Does that work?"

She switches from pale to deep red. She doesn't make eye contact. Crap, I've pissed her off again, haven't I? No, wait. She's smiling…or sort of smiling.

"I think that'd just make it even more awkward," she says quietly. "But thanks for the sentiment."

"So are you going to tell me the song?" I ask, trying to push her buttons. Annoyed Sam is always a fun Sam.

She looks at me this time, right in the eyes. "Why is it so important to you?"

That gaze…damn it, snap out of it! "I—I just thought it was a good song," I admitted.

"Really? You usually don't like my apparently dark, anger-filled music," she quotes.

I shake my head. "Well yeah, usually. But yesterday I had to babysit my cousin Daphne and I have all those Bear and the Big Blue House songs stuck in my head," I complain. Sam winces. "I need some anger and sarcasm to wipe out all this…cheesiness."

Sam smiles. "Well, if you're that desperate," she considers. "It's called 'Build God Then We'll Talk' by Panic! At the Disco."

"Aren't they the guys who wrote the song about doors?" I ask.

Sam nods and laughs again. "Yeah, something like that."

We talk for a couple more minutes as she patches up the rest of me. My eye still hurts.

"Seeing that you have your power it'll probably heal in the next couple of days," Sam tells me. "Sorry."

"Sorry? My eye's just sore."

Sam grimaces. "It's uh…it's more than that."

She passes me a mirror.

"You gave me a black eye!" I exclaim. My whole right eye is surrounded by an ugly purple-ish bruise that's making me look like I'm in the middle of blinking.

"Hey, I don't know my own strength!" she defended.

"How am I going to explain this to Mom and Dad?" I ask to myself more than her.

Sam shrugs. "Tell them you got beat up at school."

I cross my arms. "Yeah, because that will make me look _extra_ manly. How about I stroll along in a dress and carry around that stuffed animal collection of yours tomorrow, too?"

"How did you know-?" she asks. Then she remembers that I was in her closet. "I rue the day I told my mom I liked that infernal bear," she grumbles.

I laugh. "But seriously…what do I tell people?"

"Just say you got in a fight," Sam says simply. "And say the guy ran off. It isn't that hard."

"Still," I continue, raising the mirror to my face. "A black eye isn't going to be the most attractive thing when I go to school tomorrow."

"Don't be silly," Sam persuades. "Some girls think that guys with black eyes are hot."

I set the mirror down. "You really think so?"

Sam's looking away again. "Yeah," she confirms. Her voice is quiet.

It's silent for a couple moments. I sit up straight.

"I should probably get home," I say. "You know, try to get some sleep before-"

I'm stopped by something on my lips. It's Sam. Or rather, Sam's lips.

I keep my eyes open and look around. No danger. No threat. So it isn't a fake-out make-out. So…

Sam's kissing me for the heck of it. She's _kissing_ me.

I close my eyes and let all these hormones take over for a little bit. They deserve a break after what I've put them through, and who am I to object?

Next thing I know I'm laying down again and my arms are wrapped around her stomach. How did they get there? And how did she get on top of me?

My mind is blanking. Her hands are on my chest. I'm letting out noises I never knew I could make. _She's_ letting out noises I never thought she could make. It's really nice, blissful even. Screw it. I like her. I like her a lot.

How's that for clueless?

This goes on for I don't know how long…seconds? Minutes? Hours? I've sort of lost track of time.

But it ends. She's hovering over me and I realize that I need to breathe. I exhale. We're both beet red.

And now it has become awkward.

"I—I, um, I…" Sam stutters. She takes in a deep breath. "You should probably head home. Your parents might be worrying about you."

I nod. I can't speak for some reason. I'm in a daze.

Sam clears her throat and gets off of me. "See you tomorrow."

I get up. "Thanks," I say. "For everything." I transform into Phantom and phase through the wall, reappearing outside her room. I turn invisible and peek through her window.

Sam's smiling one of her big smiles. The kind of smiles she gets from seeing a new horror movie coming out or Paulina doing something embarrassing. She jumps around a couple times and falls onto her bed, looking like she's the queen of the world.

This pleases me.

I propel from her house and into the sky, lazily doing tricks in the air. Even in Skulker decided to shoot a missile up my butt it wouldn't kill my mood.

"YEEEEEESSSSS!" I yell out of nowhere.

A couple lights turn on in the neighborhood. People look to the sky, confused. I turn invisible and head home.

Sam and I don't talk about that night at all. Not even to Tucker. It just doesn't exist to anyone but us.

But I'm sort of glad it at least exists. Even if I got grounded for "being in a fight". And I'm pretty sure Sam feels that way, too.

They say ignorance is bliss.

So I'll stay clueless while I can.

**#**

**Yes! Cheesy ending, I know! But you have no idea how hard I was fangirling when I wrote this…My mom thought I was being attacked from how loud I screamed.**

**I hope you enjoyed this one!**

**Review, as always! I love seeing your beautiful comments!**

**Leave me some ideas in your reviews, too. Inspiration is a big help. **

**-ZG**


	4. An Apology to Cliches Everywhere

**The response to the previous one-shot has been AMAZING! I couldn't ask for more.**

**I've decided to share little snippets of information about myself every one-shot to lighten up the mood, soooo…**

**I'm a girl. Probably already guessed that. And unlike a lot of people here, I'm actually a teenager. Like, high-school teenager. Nope, not in college. Just sort of…hanging out. No one in my life knows that I write fanfiction. They think I'm continuing this fantasy novel I started writing a few years ago that turned out to be a total piece of crap. That's what you get when you hand a twelve year old Microsoft Word.**

**On with the story!**

**#**

_Title: An Apology to All Clichés Everywhere_

_Setting: You know what? I don't even know. The story works on its own time._

_Summary: Tucker sets Danny and Sam up on blind dates…with each other._

**#**

That's it.

I'm done.

I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE.

All the flirting, awkward glances, denial…I'm done with it. Secretly confiding in me but never telling each other…I'm throwing myself out the window. Tell Danny I leave him my PDA in the will. But this has to stop.

Danny and Sam just need to hook up already.

I've known for a long time those two have had the hots for each other. Even before I managed to squeeze it out of them. The only people who couldn't tell that they were practically dating were Danny and Sam themselves.

And yes, I say "practically dating". They're inseparable. They have the same general taste in music, movies, and television. They make more contact than they do with their parents. And I know they've kissed before, I just know it. And I don't mean "fake-out make-out" kiss, I mean _really_ kiss.

Being an Internet junkie, you could say I "ship" them together. And I do. I try my hardest to get them together, no matter what anyone says. Little hints, giving advice, pushing them together—it's all so that they can realize that they're practically soul mates. I sort of real-life OTP.

My parents are right. I need to get out more.

But I've come up with a plan to get them together. Recently, they've sort of been wallowing in self-hate for being single. I can't blame them. Everyone is pairing up. Kwan and Star, Paulina and Dash (who _didn't_ see that coming?), Valerie and this bookstore guy, and even Jazz has gone on a couple dates with this bookstore employee. I'm not particularly happy with that last one.

I acknowledge that I can be a bit of a third wheel sometimes. And you know what? I'm okay with it. It gives me a chance to observe and watch. Plus, with me fighting ghosts so much, my PDA needs some serious PDA.

And being this third wheel has given me time to think. How do I solve these two problems that are coincidentally related?

I smirk as I enter the lab. Everything is set. I've wired all the computer screens to the security cameras in the restaurant, city…everything. The microphones have been planted in their clothes and the centerpiece.

People may call it creepy. I call it surveillance.

I remember that on Thursday I had my perfect opportunity. I had Chemistry with Sam where the teacher never paid attention and P.E. with Danny. And then the day ended and I could set up everything else as planned.

Chemistry had set me and Sam up as lab partners. As Mrs. Alderman ranted about ions and reactions, I pulled out a note card and wrote down the first words of my ultimate plot.

_Hey, I got something that could help you with your single problem._

I passed it to Sam.

_Gross, Tucker. No._

She passed it back.

_No, not like that. I've got a friend who's been down in the dumps about being single, too. He lives across town. He's not too shabby-looking for a guy. He doesn't resemble Sidney Poindexter at the least._

_Wow, I didn't know you had friends outside from me and Danny._

_Oh, har-dee-har-har. Anyways, maybe you would like to go on a date with him?_

_Are you trying to hook me up?_

_More or less. The answer will become definite when you give me an answer._

The notecard didn't return until the end of the class period, right before the bell rang.

_Fine. I'll go._

The high-pitched whine of the period bell invaded our ears.

"Sweet," I said out loud, taking the note card and ripping it to shreds. Don't want Danny to see it. "I'll text you the details later."

Next I went to gym class. Things went on as they usually did. Ms. Tetslaff made us run around the track under our knees gave out. We tried (and failed) to move up in weight training. Dash gave me and Danny double wedgies. The jocks laughed. We laughed when Danny managed to overshadow one of them and make him proclaim his love for ponies. And then we headed to the locker rooms to change back into our clothes.

When we finished changing I turned to Danny.

"Yo, dude," I said.

"Yeah, Tuck?" he asked.

"I've been noticing that you've kind of been moping around about being single," I observed.

Danny's eyes met the floors. "Yeah. Your point?"

"I think I've got something that would help you out," I told him.

He glared at me. "I'm not going on that chat site again, Tucker. I still have nightmares."

I shook my head. Jesus, did everyone think I was here to prank them? Then again, this all was sort of a ruse…I should reevaluate my image.

"No," I said. "My…cousin. She's in town and she's single. She's okay looking…I wouldn't really know."

"Tucker," Danny said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow, "are you trying to get me to do a blind date?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. The question is, are you going to go?"

Danny was quiet for a bit, shutting his locker closed and sighing. "I'll do it. I just can't believe I've become so _desperate._"

"Look on the bright side, dude," I told him, patting him on the back. We exited the locker room. "You're not as desperate as those guys on the chat site."

**#**

Later that night I sent them a text to meet at this corner restaurant and dress nice. I said to arrive at 7:00 Saturday night. To avoid confusion, they and their dates would wear a white rose pin. That's where I hid the microphones. I gave them their pins separately after school.

I told the Fenton's I was using the lab for a science project on ectoplasmic nature. They excitingly gave me the place for the night.

I smile and lean back in the office chair, putting on the headphones and scanning the screens for any activity.

A couple minutes in I see Sam arrive five minutes early and snort. Sam's always got to be an overachiever. She's dressed in all black (no surprise there). Black converse, black dress that reaches her knees, black fishnet sleeves, black purse shaped like a bat. The only thing that stands out is the white rose pinned to her chest.

She sits down and waits.

"Tucker, I better not be getting Punk'd," she mutters to herself. Two out of three microphones are fully functional. Just have to wait for Danny so I can flip the switch and see if his is working.

Speaking of Danny, he arrives five minutes late. Straightening out his tie and wiping off dirt. Poor dude probably had a run in with Skulker again. That reminds me…

I pull out my PDA and link it to my old one. I type in "orbit Earth" for the rest of the night. There. No distractions.

Danny's talking to himself again. I flip the switch to hear him.

"Hi, I'm Danny Fenton," he says. Dear god, he's practicing talking to the girl. Even I don't do that…anymore. "It's very nice to meet you. I am in no way, shape, or form connected to Danny Phantom, the good-looking superhero of this fair town. What's your favorite color?"

He's going to screw this up.

Danny walks in and taps a host on the shoulder.

"Hey," he says. "I came here for a 7 o'clock date with a girl? The name is Fenton."

The host reads the list. "Ah, yes. Table 17. Right this way."

I'm smiling in anticipation as he nears where Sam is sitting.

"Sam?" Danny asks.

"Danny?" Sam asks.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. Oh boy, oh boy…

"Tucker set me up on a blind date. You?"

"Funny, I-"

"Table 17, sir," the host says, gesturing to Sam's table.

Danny turns to the waiter. "That can't be right." He turns to Sam. "Right?"

Sam shrugs. "Would you happen to be wearing a white rose?" The waiter leaves.

"Yeah, Tucker told me to-" He glares. "Tucker."

"He set us up, didn't he?" Sam asks.

He shakes his head. "You tell a guy one time and he doesn't let it go!"

Sam frowns. "Tell a guy…what, exactly?"

Danny blushes. "Nothing."

Sam crosses her arms. "Well now I'm pissed. I can't believe he did this. He's going get is daily serving of combat boot up his ass the next time I see him."

I wince. Angry friends was _not_ a side-effect I had envisioned.

Danny sighs. "Well, we can't let these reservations go to waste, can we? Besides, I had to beg my mom for enough money so I could pay for the dinner."

Sam smiles. "I'll pay. But for now, sit down. You look like you just got out of a bull pen."

Danny sits down. "Yeah, Skulker did a number on me. Got away, too. But I guess I can worry about that tomorrow. Unless he crashes the place."

She laughs. "I've got a thermos in my purse. I'm sure we can take him."

A waiter walks up to them. "What would you like to drink?"

They both look at the waiter curiously. It's like they're just realizing that they're on an actual date.

"I'll…uh, I'll just take a glass of water," Danny says with a smile.

Sam looks up from the menu. "Shirley Temple."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. Sam just ordered…a girly drink?

The waiter nods and leaves. Danny raises an eyebrow.

Sam looks at him curiously. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Danny says, "but who are you and what have you done with Sam?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just ordered a Shirley Temple!"

"And?"

"And, well…isn't that sort of a girly drink? With maraschino cherries and all the…pinkiness?" He's looking as confused as I am.

She shrugs. "It's honestly the only pink thing I enjoy. If they made it with black cherries it'd be a lot more interesting…and delicious. But I'll settle for this."

Danny shakes his head. "You surprise me every day."

"Well thank you," Sam says in mock flattery. "I try my best to be spontaneous and unpredictable."

"You succeed."

It's quiet for a while as they figure out their orders. Sam, of course, goes for the most stale and vegan-like order in the world. Danny leans towards my side, the _right_ side of the food pyramid, and orders a tri-tip.

They start eating when Danny pauses. He puts his fork down.

"Um…I know this is going to sound cliché and whatever," he says. "But I guess it's sort of protocol to say that…you look nice in that dress."

Sam turns bright red.

I only say this because I'm alone, and I'd never admit to saying it outside of here, but d'awwwwww.

"Thanks," she says. She looks down. "You don't look so bad yourself, Mr. Tuxedo."

"Thanks. I must say that I do look pretty snazzy."

She glares playfully. "You're so conceited sometimes, you know that?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Your point?"

She sighs. "True. I think this is the second time I've ever seen you in a tux in all the years I've known you."

"Oh yeah…the dance," Danny muses, remembering.

"It's a sad thing that I don't remember most of it," Sam sighs.

"Well, you were a dragon most of the time."

"I wouldn't have been if Paulina didn't piss me off so much," she defends. "I have no idea what you see in her."

Danny shrugs, and looks like he's thinking. "Hey, what did Paulina say that made you so mad in the first place?"

"She said that the only reason she went out with you is because she wanted to steal you away from me," Sam explains. "And she was planning on dumping you. And nobody hurts you on my watch."

"Eh, I'm over her," Danny says. "You know, Paulina."

"But isn't she obsessed with Phantom?"

"That's what made me lose interest. She built a shrine! I can't like a girl who's that creepy. You know, obsessive creepy."

"Good," Sam says.

Danny looks confused again. "And why is that good?"

Sam's caught off guard. "Uh…no reason."

He shrugs it off. Clueless, I tell you. Clueless.

They finish eating.

"I'll never eat again," Sam complains.

"Ditto," Danny moans. He taps a passing waiter. "Hey, could we get a check, please?"

The waiter nods.

"I still can't believe Tucker," Sam tells him. "I mean, yeah we're friends. But a date? It's a new low, even for him.

Hey!

"Maybe his PDA left him," Danny jokes. "And he's been bored and lovelorn."

HEY!

The waiter returns with the bill. They both reach for it, and the minute they touch hands they retreat. Great, now we're back to this.

"I said I'll pay," Sam reminds Danny. "It's barely a dent considering my parent's fortune."

He raises a hand. "I won't accept that. Tradition says that the guy pays."

"And so does sexism. Besides, it's cliché."

"And what's wrong with cliché?"

"It's…I don't know, cheesy! You know, a Gouda and cheddar melt with parmesan sprinkles cheesy."

Danny crosses his arms. "Well why don't we just split it 50/50?"

Sam considers this. "Seems fair."

They pay and walk out of the restaurant. I switch to the traffic cameras, and now everything is in black and white. But you can still see Sam going red the minute Danny opens the door for her.

They stand on the sidewalk.

"So…whatcha wanna do now?" Danny asks, hands in his pockets.

"I thought dates ended after the dinner," Sam presumes.

"Ah, but that would be cliché," Danny says, using Sam's own words to get back at her. "And we all know how much you hate cliché."

Sam crosses her arms. "Fine. Why don't we go to the park?"

"Okay," Danny says. The start walking over. "You know, you sort of seem like you're in a bad mood."

"Tell me about it," Sam grumbles. "I mean, I was set up on a date with you."

"Right in the confidence issues," Danny mutters.

She stops. "No, I didn't mean like that. It's just that Tucker has been bugging me a lot lately because of something that I said a while ago. He's been playing matchmaker for me since the beginning of the school year."

Danny raises an eyebrow again and they resume walking.. "What exactly did you say to him?"

Sam clears her throat. "Just…things. It was a while back, like right when eighth grade started."

"Oh…hey, remember the camping trip?" he asks, laughing.

"Oh yeah. God, that was embarrassing."

They're discussing the camp trip. Now we're getting somewhere.

"People think we actually did stuff," Danny laughed. "I mean, could you imagine us…like that?"

"Maybe," I hear Sam mutter. Good thing these microphones pick up everything. "No, I guess not."

"Everyone thinks we should be together," Danny observes. "I mean it's not a bad idea, but we're just friends."

Did he just say what I think he just said?

"Did you just say what I think you just said?" Sam asks.

Danny looks down. "I mean, if you think about. We're best friends. I'm a guy. You're a girl. We're both straight. It could work…if it ever did happen. But that's highly unlikely."

They entered the park and settled near the fountain on a bench. Damn place only had one camera.

"I wouldn't say that," Sam reassures him. "You never know. I mean, back in eighth grade you didn't think you'd get superpowers."

He chuckles. "True." He glances at her. "So…do you think Tucker did this for more than just laughs?"

"I don't know. He's been trying to push us together for the longest time." Sam is looking away. "And he's always calling us lovebirds."

"Well…Tucker is a smart kid," Danny points out.

I like that compliment. In other words…YES! Go, Danny!

Sammy looks over to him. "So…are you saying that this could be called an official date?"

"I don't know," Danny confesses. "I think it might be. But it sort of depends on you."

Sam smiles. "Well, I've been wanting to make this an official date for a _long_ time."

Danny's grinning. "Good. Because I think it just sort of became one."

I am unreachable. This is happening. This is actually happening.

They're leaning in. Oh god, they're leaning in! But then he pauses.

"I think you've got a bug on your rose," Danny says to Sam.

Crap.

He picks it up. "Is this a…microphone?"

Crap on fire.

He fishes through his rose. My headphones are full of static and rustling.

"Tucker's been spying on us," Sam realizes. "I should've expected that from the little beret-wearing rat."

"Hey Tucker," Danny says into both the microphones. Ouch. Now it's extra loud. "Stop it, dude. You got what you wanted."

They wait a little bit and start to lean in again, but Danny puts up a finger.

"Just to make sure," he says. He places the microphones on the grund and stomps on them. Silence.

He looks like he's about to do one more thing when Sam grabs him by the shirt and kisses him.

SUCCESS! SUCCESS!

While they're kissing Danny raises a finger in the direction of the camera. A shot of energy is emitted and hits the device.

The screen goes black.

Fine. If you didn't want me there, you just had to say so.

**#**

**I'm drowning in the fluffiness. Help me! Help me! Fejfcojfhdioqo…**

**Not my best, I know. But it somewhat satisfies.**

**Keep giving me ideas! I'm writing them all down so I can write the one-shots. This and a couple others were already in my head, but once I get my writing senses revved up I'll try to do all of your requests. I'll even credit you.**

**Review please!**

**-ZG**


	5. A Small Glimpse

**Hello, guys! Next one-shot. Previous one does not account for this one. There is no continuation in here whatsoever. So, uh, yeah.**

**My next random fact: I am an agnostic going to a Catholic high school. Yes, sense the irony.**

**The images for what I believe Lilith and Neil to look like can be found by clicking onto my account: zipporahgrace . deviantart. I hope it helps the story! They're quick sketches, so don't be shocked when don't look perfect. Anyways, on with the show!**

**#**

_Title: A Small Glimpse_

_Setting: End of season 2._

_Summary: Danny and the gang get a surprise from Clockwork: Danny and Sam's future kids. (idea given to me by ReadAndWriteButMostlyRead)_

**#**

It's been a long day. What, with Skulker on my back 24/7? Guy doesn't know when to take a hint and leave.

I sigh as I enter the lab with Sam and Tucker, too tired to fly or go intangible. Mom and Dad are too busy working on their next ray gun to notice Phantom in the house. I stick the thermos into its draining unit and watch as its lights power down.

"Want to watch Dead Teacher 6?" Sam suggests. "Horror movies always make me feel better."

"Yeah, and we could play this new game I got called Torrent Redux. It has really good graphics," Tucker adds.

I smile. Its days like these that make me grateful that I have awesome friends.

"Sure," I say. "Just let me make sure everything's in check. I don't want any more surprises tonight."

Very fatal words, myself. Very fatal words.

I make sure nothing is overloading and close the portal, changing back into my human form. I smile. I don't care what my parents say. Polyester is not comfortable.

I turn to my friends and raise my hands in the air. "So who's up for some mind-numbing media and junk food?"

"I know I am," Tucker tells us.

"Count me in, if I'm allowed to," Sam says. "There's this gala my parents are trying to get me to go to. Having socialite parents can be such a drag sometimes."

"It's just a party, right?" Tucker inquires. "What could be so bad about that?"

"They want me to dress up in pastel colors and treat everyone nicely," Sam explains. Oh, so that's why. "And they also want to get me to date some dweeb named Richard Welkman. If I go tonight they'll try to introduce him to me."

"There's no way you're going," I blurt out. My mouth seems to move on its own without my brain's permission a lot. Especially around Sam. I try to correct myself. "I mean, you'd have so much fun here."

"I think they'd notice me not being there," she points out. "Besides, since when do you care about my social life?"

"Since when do you care about your parent's impression of you?" I retort.

We're almost at each other's throats, growling. Tucker pushes in between us.

"Get a room!" he says.

We look at him. What the hell does he mean by that?

He shakes his head. "You lovebirds wouldn't get it."

"WE'RE NOT LOVEBIRDS!" Sam and I proclaim in unison. We have a habit of speaking at the same time, and it's beginning to scare me a little.

We glance at each other. Awkward…

Tucker looks over to me. "Dude, you've got something in your hand."

I look at my right hand. I've got a piece of folded paper in between my thumb and index finger. When did that get there?

I unfold it and read it out loud.

_Hello Danny Fenton,_

_As I see you and your girlfriend _("She's not my girlfriend!" "I'm not his girlfriend." Tucker rolls his eyes.) _are in the midst of a fight, I won't intrude. I'm here to tell you that in five minutes someone special will be arriving, so you better prepare yourselves. They are here per their request as a sort of birthday present for one of them. Enjoy yourselves._

_Sincerely,_

_Clockwork, Master of All Time and one mean Blackjack player_

"Someone special?" Tucker asks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," I answer. "But judging by past experience it can't be anything good." I change back into my ghost form, hovering in the air and waiting for something. A crash through the wall or an explosion of some sort.

What I do not expect was someone knocking on the Ghost Portal.

We all raise an eyebrow. The knocking continues.

"Well," Sam says, "go answer it."

I look at her and then back to the Portal. I hesitantly make my way over and press the button to open it.

I resume my place to guard my friends, who each hold a weapon of their own, to face the enemy Clockwork has decided to challenge me with.

I do not expect two kids to step out. Even more so, two _human_ kids. No glow or any red or green eyes. Nothing. Just a girl our age and a boy a couple years younger.

We're all the confused out of our minds.

"Whoa," the boy says, smiling. "The lab looks so different."

"Well, yeah," the girl says. "Obviously they upgraded from this dump."

The boy looks back to the Portal. "The Portal is different, too."

"No duh," the girl remarks. "Dad blew it up during the whole 'Self-Doubt' phase, remember? This must've been what it looked like before-" She pauses as she sees us. "No. Way."

"Uh, hi to you, too," I say. "Who are you guys?"

Both kids smile.

"I'm guessing Clockwork didn't tell you?" the girl asks.

"Well, he said someone was coming over," I explained. "I just didn't expect a couple of kids."

The two look knowingly at each other.

Both have black hair. The girl's is thick and in a braid that reaches to the top of her stomach. She has a gray sweat cap on with a white skull logo. She wears a black wife beater that is covered by a loose gray zip up sweatshirt that slides off one of her shoulders, along with jean shorts and gray converse. Her eyeliner is thick around her sky blue eyes, by what I can tell. Her side bangs cover most of her right eye.

The boy has shaggy hair that goes all over the place. He has a black Under Armor long sleeve on with blue basketball shorts and white sneakers. Parts of his hair cover his purple eyes. Funny, he kind of looks like me, now that I think about it…

…wait, no. That can't be right.

"We're not just a couple of kids," the boy says, offended. "Geez, Dad."

"You…you're _my_ _kids_?" I ask, dumbfounded. Man, Skulker must've knocked me out hard if I'm dreaming like this.

"Yup!" the boy exclaims enthusiastically.

"Oh, and not just your kids," the girl adds. She points to Sam. "We're her kids, too."

No.

This is not happening.

I'm dreaming. Simply dreaming. I'll wake up in a cage in the Ghost Zone because Skulker knocked me out and I am in the midst of such an unlikely situation that it just has to be a dream.

"No," Sam says.

The girl shrugs. "It's true. Sorry to disappoint ya. I mean, we look like both of you. My little bro takes after Dad a bit more than I do, but yeah. We're your biological children."

I wave my hands. "No, not disappointed. Just sort of…shocked."

The girl turns to the boy. "I told you this was a bad choice for your birthday wish. Now they'll go catatonic and we'll cease to exist."

The boy looks like he's thinking. "I'm pretty sure we used the right Portal."

"With your sense of direction? I think not."

The boy looks at Sam. "Maybe you're right. I mean, there's _no way_ Mom would ever dress that dark and Goth."

"WHAT?" Sam yells. "Are you saying that in the future I'm going to be some pastel-wearing housewife? Because I will never be that! Ever!"

The boy smirks and looks back to his sister. "Told you she'd freak. Pay up."

The girl rolls her eyes and pulls a couple dollars out of her pocket. The boy laughs maniacally as he counts the cash.

I'm still a little shocked from the fact that they're my kids. Even more, me and_ Sam's_ kids.

"That can't be right," I say. "I'm not even dating Sam. We don't do that sort of thing. She doesn't like me like that. I don't like her like that." Okay, that last one may have been a lie.

The boy laughs. "Uncle Tuck was right. Dad _was_ completely clueless."

Tucker, who's been just standing there during all of this, talks. "_Uncle_ Tuck? Awesome!"

I sit down on the floor and I notice Sam is doing the same.

"I'm so confused," I say. I look up at the kids. "Can you explain all of this?"

The boy is about to speak, but the girl interrupts him. The boy glares.

"I'm Lilith Adeline Manson-Fenton," she introduces. "And this is my brother, Neil Michael Manson-Fenton."

Tucker laughs. "Neil?"

Neil frowns. "Don't ask me, he's the one who chose my name." He points to me.

I smile a crooked smile. "I like NASA?" I guess.

Lilith shakes her head. "We're here from 20-30 years in the future. I can't give specifics. Messing with the time-space continuum and all that. We got the hyphenated name because Mom was too stubborn to give up her maiden name."

"Sounds like Sam," Tucker jokes.

Sam glares. "Shut up."

Lilith continues. "We're here because on our twelfth birthday Clockwork lets us go to five places in time. Dipstick over here-" She points to her brother. "—decided to visit you guys when you were my age."

"Why would Clockwork let you do that?" Sam asks.

"He sort of owes Dad," Neil explained. "That creepy version of him got out of the thermos and Dad was able to get him back in before he totally trashed Clockwork's place and destroyed time itself."

"Couldn't Clockwork just have paused Dark Dan?" Sam asks.

Neil shakes his head. "He exists out of time, so he couldn't control him. So yeah, we're here now because of Dopey's birthday wish. I would rather be someplace else, but I've got to babysit him to make sure he doesn't do anything timeline-altering. This is stop number three."

I stand up and notice Sam has joined me, taking a hold of my arm. I guess the future-parents thing has given us a temporary excuse from "just friends".

"How long are you going to be staying in this timeline?" I ask.

"Only a couple of hours," Lilith answers. "We only get a day maximum, which I don't think we'll use anytime soon. We were in Babylon for an hour and the dweeb almost blew up half the city."

Neil threw his hands up in the air. "Everybody's a critic!" he proclaimed. "Besides, you know what I'm going through."

"Still, puberty isn't much of an excuse," she argued. "Even if it is part Ghost Puberty."

"Ghost Puberty?" Tucker asks. "What's Ghost Puberty?"

One of Neil's still raised hands starts glowing green. A blast is fired and we all duck as it hits the analysis table and shatters a beakers.

Lilith stands up and dusts herself off. "That."

"You guys have ghost powers?" I ask.

"Well, duh!" Neil says. "We're quarter ghost on your side. We've got all the basic stuff." He starts numbering them off on his fingers. "Ghost rays, intangibility, invisibility-"

"Something he likes to use a lot," my daughter—did I just say that? Oh, this is so weird—mutters.

"—super strength, and flight," Neil finishes. He jumps into the air and floats there, doing a couple somersaults. "Weeeeeee!"

Lilith rolls her eyes. She's acting more and more like Sam by the minute. "The powers start showing up during puberty, hence the term 'Ghost Puberty'," she explains. "And we also get green-eyed when we're mad."

Neil stops spinning and laughs. "Oh yeah. You should see Lily when she's on her period. They're green all week!"

He continues to laugh. Lilith's eyes flash green and she emits a ghost ray from her hand, effectively forcing her brother against the wall.

"Ow!" my son—ugh, it's still so new—whines.

"That's what you get, twerp!" Lilith defends. "And don't call me Lily; you know I hate being called that name!" Funny, just like how Sam hates being called Sammy. Like mother like daughter.

Neil's eyes flash green and he gets up.

Soon enough it's an all-out sibling war.

Sam removes herself from my arm and stomps over to the fight, standing in between her two apparent children.

She looks at each of them once before taking a deep breath.

"ALRIGHT!" she yells. The brother and sister stop. "I have had _enough_ of you too acting like this. Neil, you're going to stop making fun of your sister every five seconds. Lilith, you've got to control your anger problems. Trust me, I got some, too!"

The siblings are silent, both floating in the air. They pout and sulk.

"Fine," they say bitterly.

"Good," Sam says, smiling. "Now if you could just come back down…"

The both slowly descend and land on the ground.

She looks at each one sternly. "Apologize."

They avoid eye contact and each say "sorry" so faintly you can barely hear it.

"That's better," Sam exhaled. She walks back over to me and Tucker, who are staring at her. "What?"

I gulp. "Nothing. Just…never seen that side of you before," I say.

Neil looks up. "Yeah, Mom can be scary when she wants to be."

"As if we didn't already know that," Tucker snorts. Sam punches him in the arm.

Lilith regains her composure. "But that's pretty much it."

"Wait, no transformation?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, we can do that," Neil says. "It just takes a lot of practice. It doesn't come as easy as it does for you."

"I've just been able to fully transform myself," the sister tells us. "Good thing I wore something suitable for it. My poor brother is going to walk around looking like an athletic tool dressed in black and white."

Neil glares at her, but then looks over to us. "I can only get the rings to go to here so far." He places one finger on his chest and the other one mid-thigh.

"I'd show you mine, but I'm still getting used to it," Lilith confesses. "It takes a lot of energy out of me, but it's a good way to keep a secret identity."

"Yeah, can't go around looking like Danny Phantom's kids," the brother says, mindlessly playing with the invisibility of his hand. "We get enough attention as Danny Fenton's kids ever since-"

Lilith puts her hand over his mouth. "Space time continuum," she reminds him. She looks over to us. "Just pretend you didn't hear that."

"Well," Sam says. "We've got you for another couple of hours."

"Three, to be exact," Lilith says.

Sam shrugs. "Why don't we show you around town? You know, so that you can see what it was like when we were your guys' age?"

The siblings look at each other and nod. "Okay."

I look over to Tucker. "You want to go?"

Tucker pouts. "But I thought we were doing horror movies and video games! You know normal teenager stuff!"

"We can do that after we show me and Sam's future children the town of Amity Park before they have to leave as to not disrupt the timeline," I told him. I change back into my human self. "After that, we can go back to things being normal. Or, as normal as they were before."

We sneak past my parents—according to Neil, they still wear the jumpsuits—and get out the door. Immediately, the children start commenting.

"I forgot. You guys have cars that stay on the ground."

"Flip phones? I haven't seen one of those since Uncle Tuck gave up his collection."

"Hey Dad, can we go to the arcade?"

"Hey, I say we're going to the bookstore. I want to see what they used to look like before e-readers."

"Arcade!"

"Bookstore!"

In unison: "Dad!"

I hold my hands up in defense. "Hey, I don't know! Lay off of me! I may be your dad, but I'm still a kid!"

They look offended. Great, I've made my kids hate me before they're even born.

I sigh. "We'll go to Sam's favorite bookstore and then the arcade. And then we'll go spend the last hour wherever and you guys can return to a time where I'm an actual adult. But for now, just try not to think of me as Dad, okay? It's a little weird and people are getting the wrong idea and are staring at me."

That lightens up their mood.

"Skull and Bones Bookstore?" Lilith asks excitedly. "Yes! I've always wanted to go there. I heard it was really dark and mystifying." She looks over to her little brother. "You better not embarrass me with your little jock getup, alright?"

I look over to Sam. "Guess whose personality she took after?" I ask sarcastically.

"Sweet, the arcade!" Neil exclaims. "I can't wait for Kyla and Percy to know about this, they'll freak! Gah, they would love this!"

Lilith smiles. "I think Kyla would love _you_ more."

Neil scratches his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam smirks. "Guess whose personality _he_ took after?"

I blush.

"I guess cluelessness is a genetic trait," Tucker sighs.

We go to the bookstore where Sam and Lilith practically freak out over the paperback novels while Tucker, Neil, and I just wait on the black bean bag chairs playing games on our phones until the hour is up.

We move onto the arcade, where the girls watch us play an intense game of air hockey. Tucker pairs up with Neil. I originally plan to manipulate the puck a little bit like I usually do, but it's kind of hard when you've got a son who can do the exact same thing. I win it, though, when his intangibility springs up and he starts slipping through the floor. You could call it a father-son bonding moment if I weren't sort of rubbing my victory in their faces.

They probably see by now that teenage me isn't the best role model.

We play a couple more games and get enough tickets to get something for everyone at the counter. Tucker gets a checkered beret. I get a bag full of candy. Lilith gets a fan. Neil chooses to get a Sticky Hand, saying he's heard of them but never had one.

Sam is waiting outside, saying that the place is the epitome of corporate America. Should I get her something? Yes, I should. You know…just so that she won't get left out.

I spy a small plastic necklace with a black bat silhouette as the pendant. It's just under my ticket limit. I choose it, put it in my pocket, and we head out the door.

We start walking back to the lab with a half an hour left until Lilith and Neil have to leave.

"Today was fun, Uncle Tuck," Neil says. "I never knew that the past could be so entertaining, even if you guys still use controllers for your games."

Tucker smiles. "It would've been more fun if Danny hadn't cheated his way to winning air hockey," he says cheerfully, but I know it's in bitterness.

I smirk. "Maybe I didn't cheat. Maybe you just suck at air hockey."

He glares. "The puck was glowing green, dude. I know you cheated."

"Hey, we got cool crap and the timeline hasn't been broken yet," Lilith says, holding her hands up. "Let's just call it a good day considering that we all still exist and I haven't blown my brother to bits for that joke about my singing voice over at the karaoke machine."

"It's not my fault that I thought you had inherited the ghostly wail," Neil defended.

I remember the necklace as we near the apartment. We stop in front of the stairs so that we can go intangible and sneak our way down. Judging by the explosion in the opp center I can guess my parents aren't down in the lab.

I pull it out and hand it to Sam. "Here you go. You were outside and I thought you might like it."

She turns red. "Thanks." She slips it over her head and smiles. "I like it."

"Good," I say.

She then proceeds to kiss me on the cheek. I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks. "And thank you," I blurt out.

"Ew," Lilith grimaces. She puts her hand over her eyes.

"I thought it might be less gross since you guys are younger," Neil tells us. "But there's still just as much 'ick'." He mirrors Lilith's actions.

I smirk. "You think that's gross?" I ask. "Well then take a load of this."

I grab Sam and kiss her on the lips. The kids start making gag noises. Tucker's cheering us on. We can go back to being friends tomorrow and pretend like none of this ever happened. You know why? Because we're going to end up with two kids (at the least…Neil mentioned something about another sister) anyways.

"That's it," Lilith says. "Let's go. The Dark Ages are waiting for us, anyways."

I pull away. Sam looks like she's going to faint.

"Sam?" I ask. "Sam, are you okay?"

She snaps out of the trance (Success! I got a girl into a trance. And I didn't even have to go all Freakshow on her.) "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." She clears her throat. "We've only got about ten minutes left."

I take her and Tucker's hands and we slide through the pavement and into the lab.

"Are you guys going to be safe going into the Ghost Zone alone?" Sam asks, concerned.

Lilith snorts. "Please. The Ghost Zone is like an extended version of our house. We'll do fine."

"Besides," Neil adds, "it's easy to get to Clockwork's tower with the Infa—ow!" Lilith has punched him on the shoulder.

"You need to learn to get your mouth shut," Lilith tells him.

"Well, if you need any help…you know where to find us," I say.

Lilith smiles. "I hope we didn't—you know—scar you for life or anything. 'Cause that would probably mess up the timeline and I'm pretty happy with what I've got right now."

We all wave our hands dismissively.

"Nah," Sam denies. "I'm a little shocked, but this'll make for a good excuse for me not going to that stupid gala tonight."

"I'm going to be an Uncle!" Tucker exclaims. "And I get together with Ja-" He looks around. "Um, I get together with somebody."

Lilith glares at Neil.

"What?" he asks. "They know, who says he doesn't have the right to know?"

I raise an eyebrow. Well, this is going to call for some major awkward moments.

But I smile. "I'm glad this happened," I tell them. "And it's nice to know that the Dark Dan timeline is completely gone. See you later?"

They both grin and nod.

"Yeah," Lilith says.

"See you later," Neil promises.

They walk through the portal and I close it. It's silent.

I turn to my friends. "So is movie night still on?"

They look at each other and nod.

"Hell yes!" Tucker answers. "I need some traumatizing blood and guts to get out this warm, somewhat paternal sensation I'm feeling after seeing my niece and nephew."

"Agreed. My maternal instincts are tingling," Sam complains. She shivers.

We walk up the stairs to head to the kitchen. Halfway up I feel Sam grab my hand.

This has easily turned into the best day of my life.

**#**

**D'awwwww!**

**I would like to thank ReadAndWriteButMostlyRead for giving me this idea. I had a lot of fun with. A link to what I believe Lilith and Neil Manson-Fenton look like is in the first Author's Note of this story. What can I say? I tried.**

**I think this is one of the best one-shots I've ever written in my book. I loved doing this prompt so much, and I loved writing the OCs. **

**Speaking of which…did I make them too Mary-Sue? Too stale? Tell me. I need your reviews like oxygen. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW.**

**-ZG**


	6. A Small Glimpse: Epilogue

**Hey guys! This is a tiny epilogue from the one-shot previous to this one. I'll be updating a new, hopefully longer one-shot in the next couple of hours if possible. I'm sort of on vacation at the beach. But I love writing, so writing I shall be doing! Besides, I'm getting a lot of good ideas whilst be down here. Yay!**

**Another fun fact: I still own a VHS. No regrets.**

**I'm obviously not Butch Hartman. So I do not own Danny Phantom.**

**#**

_Title: Back to the Future_

_Setting: some 20-30 years after the events of the show._

_Summary: Epilogue to "A Small Glimpse". Lilith and Neil return to their own time. Very short one-shot._

**#**

Sam and I sit in the kitchen. Lilith and Neil left roughly ten minutes ago, and should be coming back at any moment. Time's funny like that. They've probably experienced a week's worth of adventure in such a short amount of minutes. It sort of reminds me of a show I used to watch as a kid called Digimon: one month/year (I can barely remember) in the digital world was one minute in the human world.

I hear the whir of gears as the portal begins to open downstairs.

"They're he-ere," Sam sing-songs in a ominous tone.

"Thanks, Carol-Ann," I retort, setting my cup of coffee down. I stand up and open the lab door.

Lilith and Neil trudge up the stairs and immediately fall to the ground in exhaustion.

"Tired?" I ask.

"You have no idea," Neil moans, face squished against the kitchen tile.

"Never have me babysit him again," Lilith begs.

"Oh come on," Sam says. "We know you had fun."

"At some parts, yeah," Neil admits. "But being chased by villagers because they think you're witches is never fun."

I smile. "Trust me, I know."

Lilith gets up and looks down to Neil. "I hoped you enjoyed your birthday present," she says. "Because that is never happening again."

"Trust me," he responds, "I will never time travel again. It's too weird."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "Seeing your parents lip lock as teenagers probably _is_ pretty weird."

They look up, confused.

"What?" Sam asks. "You didn't think we'd just _forget_, did you?"

"Sort of," Lilith admits.

I help my son up. The word doesn't seem weird anymore now. "Well, we didn't. It's not every day that your future kids come strolling in and start telling you that you and your best friend are going to end up together."

"Considering everything else we thought you'd just place it with all the other weird stuff that's happened to you," Neil confessed.

"So, anything change while we were gone? Is the town still standing? Is the world in an outright nuclear war?" Lilith asks. "Because smart one stepped on a butterfly when we were visiting the Cretaceous Era."

"Nothing that we can think of," I tell them. "And you guys still exist, so you can stop worrying."

Lilith lets out a big sigh of relief. "I'm going up to my room. I need a nap."

She turns intangible and flies upstairs.

"I better not see you making fun of your sister like that again," Sam tells Neil as she searches through the cupboards.

He goes wide-eyed. "What? Holding a grudge, are you?"

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again," she orders. "I don't need another room rebuilt." She closes the cupboards. "But did you have a good birthday, sweetie?"

Neil smiles. "Yeah." He looks over to me. "And by the way, Dad…I know you tried to cheat at the air hockey game. Uncle Tuck was right."

"Well it's in the past now, isn't it?" I ask. I smile. "Happy birthday."

Neil smiles. "Thanks, Dad."

I point my thumb towards the stairs. "Go up and work on your transformation. Maybe you'll go ghost as an extra birthday present."

Neil's eyes widen in delight at the idea and he races upstairs, considering he hasn't exactly mastered flying all the way. There's still a couple dents in the ceiling because it.

Upstairs, a green light flashes. Lilith screams.

"Sorry!" we hear Neil say.

"Idiot!" Lilith yells. "You blasted my door off its hinges! You are in such deep crap when Mom and Dad find out!"

"I can't control these things!" Neil explains, obviously referencing the ghost rays. "It was like you and invisibility."

Lilith screams and I hear her place her door back up. "Don't talk to me!" she orders.

Sam rolls her eyes. "I guess we'll be expecting the green-eyed monster," she muses.

I scrunch my nose. "When did she start acting so moody?" I ask in despair. I walk back over to the table.

Sam smiles. "When she became a teenager. Come on, you remember. And now they do, too."

"True," I agree. "Being a teenager can be pretty hard. Especially with ghost powers."

"I don't know," Sam says, standing up. "You survived."

I wrap my arms around her. "But I had you." I try to step towards her, but I trip (clumsiness never really went away, I guess) and almost drop her. I'm able to catch her by her arm.

She looks up to me. "Smooth, lover boy."

I roll my eyes and pull her up to kiss her.

We're there for a moment or two before…

"Ugh," Lilith says. "Twice in one day? Get a room!"

"My eyes!" Neil mocks. "My eyes!"

I pull away from Sam and smile.

Life is good.

**#**

**Someone requested a follow-up and I took to it. Next one-shot should be up soon, and not so short. But this was just a little epilogue. I also am thinking of doing a sequel to "Scary Realms of the Internet" with the dp porn tag (can you imagine the reactions? The possibilities? I can.) and a Danny version of "Fate Likes to Taunt Me" (another pinpoint. I think we can all agree we liked Sam snuggling up to him).**

**Next up, a night full of games a snooty popular kids. Hehehehe**

**-ZG**


	7. Moms Should Never Direct Social Lives

**Hello guys! I'm glad you liked the epilogue. Now, onto my next one-shot! My story has officially reached its last year at Hogwarts *small tear rolls off of cheek* I'm so proud of it!**

**Next fact: When I was little, I wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up. Still sort of do.**

**#**

_Title: Moms Should Never Direct Social Lives_

_Setting: Clockwork, you decide. I can't._

_Summary: "The events of a social event constructed by Pamela Manson did not go as she intended it to go, at the least. You could say what she hoped would happen sort of went down the toilet."_

**#**

The events of a social event constructed by Pamela Manson did not go as she intended it to go, at the least. You could say what she hoped would happen sort of went down the toilet.

She had been tired of her little Sammy-kins hanging around those two boys. She preferred that she hung out with girls…who knew what her and those rambunctious two were doing during "movie night". She wouldn't say her daughter was doing anything; she just knew that pressure from teenage boys could be very immense.

And if she _was_ going to be hanging around boys, they had to be fit to society. Not a kid obsessed with technology that looked below-par in her opinion. And most _definitely _not a boy who encouraged her daughter's dark and unsafe lifestyle and lived under the roof of parents who _hunted ghosts._

So she invited some suitable kids to a party for her little Samantha. A small get-together with three or four nice kids from her school that Sam knew, from what she had heard. They would be arriving at 7 o'clock on Friday night. Those boys, however, would not.

She told her darling Sammy-Wammy this the day of the party when she told her to clean her room. After all, she couldn't have a bunch of teenagers in her kitchen and living room. She was having her book club over tonight.

Sam Manson, on the other hand, was not thrilled by this. She looked at the list of kids who were coming over and imagined how many years she'd get in jail for matricide.

Dash Baxter

Star Jones

Kwan Nguyen

Valerie Gray

And last but _certainly_ not least, especially on her hate scale…

Paulina Sanchez.

She looked at the invitations. They promised fun, food, and a trip down their bowling alley. So now they knew she was rich. Perfect.

So if they were coming, she had to figure out a way to get them away…

…or scare them away.

Sam smiled as she jumped across her bed to grab the landline. She had to make a couple calls.

**#**

The doorbell rang at precisely 7 o'clock. Pamela smiled. That's what she liked in a group of friends: tendency to arrive on time. Sometimes those boys would bring her home in the dead of night.

"Jameson," she demanded, ringing the small bell she kept by her side at all times. One of the many butlers came to her side. "Go and answer the door, will you?"

The butler bowed. "Yes, Madame."

A couple moments later, he butler reemerged from the door, saying words Pamela never liked to hear.

"Mr. Foley and Mr. Fenton, Mrs. Manson," he announced, and promptly left the area.

Pamela glared. "What are you two doing here?"

The Foley boy shrugged. "The party, duh. Whoop, whoop!"

The Fenton boy snickered.

Pamela put her hands on her hips. "Well, I'm sorry boys. But you were not invited to this party and therefore I ask of you to-"

"Tucker! Danny!" Sam's voice got louder as she tumbled down the stairs. "You're here! Awesome!" She looked at her mother. "I invited them along." Her tone changed to the one she used to often around her parents. It was so innocent-sounding that it made them mad. "You don't mind, do you?"

Pamela glared. "Actually-"

"Cool!" Sam interrupted. She looped her arms around the boys. "Come on, let's go upstairs!"

Sam dragged them to her room and shuts the door.

"Okay," Danny said, "what's so important that you made us come over here at the last minute? Did you get attacked?"

"No," Sam admitted. "Something worse has happened."

Both boys raised an eyebrow.

"My mom's organized a party with some kids…including Dash and Paulina," she told them.

"That's it?" Tucker exclaimed. "I'm missing the premiere of Doom 4 online for _this_?"

"Yeah, Sam, just tolerate them," Danny said. "You do it at school."

"Yeah, when other people are around," she pointed out. "But I need them t go away before the girls start painting my room pink."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Tucker asked.

Sam smiled. "Scaring them off. I mean, who would hang out at a house that's haunted?"

"You're house isn't haunted," Danny said. "The only ghost that's been in here is m—oh, no. You're not serious."

"Please, Danny?" Sam begged. "I'll buy you Nasty Burger for a month. Just stick around here and then go off to become invisible to scare them away."

Danny considered this. "Fine. But only for the Nasty Burger."

"Wait," Tucker said. "Then why am I here?"

"I still need some cool people around here while my mom tries to get me to interact with the peps," Sam told him. "Besides, if I just invited Danny my mom might think I like him."

"But-" Tucker interjected.

"Shut it, Tucker," she demanded. "So yeah. If I just brought Danny she might think we'd be coming up here to make out or whatever."

"Oh, so I'm not make out worthy?" Tucker asked.

"In my mom's eyes? No," Sam answered with a smirk.

They both looked over to Danny, who hadn't spoken. His eyes were droopy and he had a foolish, funny-looking grin on his face.

"Dude?" Tucker asked, snapping his fingers. Danny returned to normal. "Dude! What was that all about?"

"Huh—what?" Danny stuttered. "Oh…j-just thinking."

Tucker looked knowingly at his friend. Sam just looked confused.

"Anyways," Sam continued. "Just stick around. Once everyone is here, say you need to go to the bathroom or something. Then just turn invisible and make stuff look scary. You know, move stuff around, possess one two people, make the lights flicker. Normal ghosty stuff."

Danny put his eyebrows together. "That's not what ghosts do."

"I know, but that's what people _think_ ghosts do," Sam pointed out. "Oh, and whisper morbid things into people's ears. You know 'I'm going to kill you' or 'Death is near'. Stuff like that."

"Okay," Danny said with doubt. "But you owe me. Technus is on the loose again and if he raids an Apple Store it's going to be on me."

"Don't worry," Sam begged. "Just enjoy the party. Well, enjoy it as much as you can while the Fun Sucker Squad is here."

They both saluted. "Yes, ma'am," they chimed in unison.

A chime ran out through the house.

"And here we have Hell ringing the doorbell," Sam sighed.

**#**

The seven teenagers walked around the house, per Pamela's insistence. Just a normal tour: from downstairs all the way to the upstairs with her little Samantha's room to end it at.

"Whoa," Dash Baxter said. "Jesus, Manson, I never knew you were loaded!"

"Didn't want you to," Sam muttered bitterly.

"So guys have a _sauna_?" Star asked in disbelief. She looked over to Sam. "We should hang out sometime."

"Yeah," Sam said sarcastically. "Because we all know our friendship would be built of trust and _not_ my parent's wealth."

Star frowned.

"You guys have a _bowling alley_?" Kwan asked. "Awesome!"

"Sort of reminds me of my house," Valerie commented. "You know, before that stupid Phantom kid decided to ruin my life with his dumb dog."

Danny shifted himself away from Valerie, who was beginning to growl.

"So why do you hang out with these losers?" Paulina asked, pointing to Danny and Tucker. "I mean with all this money you could totally dump them and join us."

"Hey!" both boys said in offense.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Because I like it with them," Sam explained. "Besides, you A-listers have a thing against dark colors that unsettles me."

They finally got to Sam's room, sitting around wherever they could find a spot. Danny and Tucker stayed silent and watched as two of the four girls in the room started to rant.

"Ugh, it's so depressing in here!" Paulina exclaimed.

"I know," Star agreed. "Sam, you should totally let us redo your room. I'm thinking…_rainbows_."

"Um, no thank you," Sam denied. "I'm perfectly happy with how my room is right now." She looked over to Danny and nodded slightly, giving him the signal.

"Uh, I'll be back," Danny announced.

"Where you going, Fenturd?" Dash Baxter taunted. "The bathroom?"

Danny looked around, slightly confused. "Um…yeah. Actually I am."

"Oh," Dash realized. "Well…okay then."

Danny then left the area, changing in the bathroom and returning to the room invisible and intangible.

"Now, what to do first?" Danny asked himself quietly. He saw the situation at hand: Dash and Kwan were tossing one of Sam's voodoo dolls like a hacky sack, Valerie and Sam were sort of just rolling their eyes as Tucker began ranting about some new tech craze, and Paulina and Star where making measurements on the room.

He flew down and snatched the voodoo doll in midair, lifting it and making it fly around while doing his best eerie "oooooooo" voice that he could.

Sam and Tucker smirked as the other people looked in wonder. The voodoo doll dropped and soon the lights were flickering on and off and candles were being put out.

This went on for a good half an hour, but everyone seemed to be unfazed by this. That is, except for Valerie, who looked like she was about to pull out her gun when Sam reminded her that she had some very valuable, _fragile_ things in her room.

"Of course," Danny muttered. "Let's try to scare people from the most haunted place in America with ghosts. Because _that_ will work."

Sam had realized this, too. How could she have been so stupid? These kids have faced brainwashing rock stars, Pariah Dark, even getting their parents back from a ghost ship. Simple parlor tricks would do nothing.

Danny sighed and went back into the bathroom, changing back and reentering Sam's room, giving her a remorseful look. So much for scaring them away.

"Jesus, Fenton," Dash said. "How long were you in there? Twenty minutes?"

"I—uh—drank a lot of water before I came here," he lied. He cleared his throat. "So, did I miss anything?"

"Not much. A voodoo doll got possessed and stuff got moved around," Valerie said. Her voice got lower. "And I would've been able to stop it if it weren't for Manson…"

"I'm so _bored_," Paulina whined. "Let's play a game."

"Oh, yes!" Star agreed. The boys nodded indifferently. Sam and Valerie just rolled their eyes.

"This better not be one of those stupid party games that fall apart five minutes into playing it," Valerie said.

"I have an idea," Sam said. "Let's not play a game at all. How about we all go home?"

All the popular kids frowned at her.

Dash leaned over to Paulina. "Hey, how 'bout we play 7 Minutes in Heaven?" he asked flirtatiously.

"Ugh, why does every guy want to play that with me?" she whined, totally clueless. She sighed. "Fine. Does anybody else want to play?"

From the guys:

"Oh yes!"

"Hell yes!"

"Can we get started? I want to start now."

"I call first!"

From the girls:

"Fine."

"Let's get this over with."

"It's a good thing I brought my chap stick."

"It's sexist and stupid. But we don't have anything better to do, do we?"

You can guess where the last one came from.

"Okay, here are the rules," Paulina said. Since most of them knew that she had plenty experience. "You've got to stay in the closet for seven minutes-"

"No duh," Sam interjected.

Paulina frowned, but continued. "You do whatever you want in there, but there has to be evidence that you've at least kissed."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Sam asked sardonically.

Paulina scoffed. "Camera phones, duh."

"So is that it?" Tucker asked. "Because I'm ready. Like, really ready."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam yelled. "Let me make a couple points. From what I've guessed, this is all going to be happening in my closet. I do not want anyone losing their virginity in my closet. Or what's left of it." Glance to Paulina, Star, Dash, and Kwan. "So the farthest anyone goes is second base, got it?"

Everyone nodded. Some of the boys, however, looked a twee disappointed.

"So how do we choose?" Star asked.

"How about you and me?" Tucker asked, giving her the look.

Star grimaced. "Ew."

"Sam, do you have a bottle around here?" Danny asked.

Sam sighed and tossed a simple, eco-friendly water bottle the group's way.

"Thanks for sticking by me, Danny," she grumbled sarcastically.

"Hey, I just don't want to be called a wimp by Dash," he told her. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

In case you didn't know, those words always spell doom. That or unexpected events. It's plot logic.

"Could you two lovebirds stop chatting and get over here?" Dash asked. The group had formed a circle.

"We're not lovebirds!" both exclaimed. Cue awkward, tomato-faced glance.

They joined the group. Kwan spun the bottle and it landed on him.

"Okay, so I'll go in with…" He spun the bottle. "Valerie."

She rolled her eyes. "Let's get this done with. I could be impaling Technus—I-I mean, playing Tetris…right now."

Everyone looked at her funny, but ignored her slip-up.

They entered the closet as Star set the timer on her phone. Once seven minutes was up, the phone rang an annoying boy band song. The two exited from the closet, holding up Kwan's phone with the evidence.

"So…how was it?" Danny asked awkwardly, not really knowing what to say at these things.

The two looked at each other, than the group, and shrugged. "Meh."

And so it went. Paulina and Dash, Tucker and Star, Valerie and Dash, Tucker and Paulina (Tucker didn't stop smiling for a week. Paulina bought a tub of mouthwash), and Kwan and Star. But not Danny or Sam.

Nobody seemed to notice the green glow at came from the bottle whenever it got close to the two…

…that is, except for Tucker.

He jabbed Danny with his elbow. "Stop it. Play the game fair and square."

He looked at his friend. "It's just a stupid game. And it's not like anybody has seen it yet except for you," he whispered back.

Tucker smiled. "You just don't want Sam to get picked, don't you?" he asked.

Danny turned red and frowned. "What? No! This is just a stupid game-"

"Then turn off your powers," Tucker said, "and let the ships crawl as they may."

"I think it's 'let the chips fall where they may'," Danny corrected. He sighed. "Fine."

The green glow stopped.

"Alright, Fenturd," Dash said. "You choose who goes next."

Danny rolled his eyes. It was a dumb game, anyways. A hormonal, possibly mentally scarring game if you played it wrong. But it would not be played wrong. It was just a simple, stupid, lame little game. He twisted his wrist to turn the bottle and let it spin.

There was a two in seven chance that it would land on either him or Sam. What was there to worry about?

A lot, apparently. Especially when the water bottle pointed its cap towards a certain Goth girl.

"O-oh," Star sing-songed. "Whose going to get it on with the Goth freak?"

Sam looked pissed.

Danny gulped and spun the bottle once again. It turned and turned and turned, and soon enough Danny saw where it would land: straight in front of Dash.

And from then on, Danny's mind started working:

It's just a stupid game. It shouldn't matter.

Then again, Sam would be totally grossed-out kissing Dash. And who knows how far he would take it.

I should do it. After all, we've kissed before. It'd be no big thing. Another fake-out make-out. Simple as that.

He pushed Tucker a little, just to distract him. Didn't want him on his back, thinking he liked Sam. Not that he didn't, it was just as a friend. Yeah, as a friend…

The bottle glowed green for a split second. Nothing anybody would think as out of the ordinary. At the most they might think it to be a trick of the light or their eyes acting funny. Their attention would be immediately diverted to something else anyways…

…and that something would be that fact that the bottle directed itself to Danny.

"Lo-ovebirds," Tucker sang, smirking.

Both teens blushed.

"Heh," Dash said. "Fenton and Goth Girl, sitting in a tree-"

"Stop being immature, Dash," Sam growled.

"Well, go in there!" Kwan pushed.

Sam turned red again. "You know what? This game is getting stupid. Let's go downstairs to my home theater and watch a movie. Does that sound good, Danny?"

"Oh yeah," Danny agreed, his voice switching pitches midsentence. _Stupid puberty._ "Let's just go downstairs, shall we?"

They were pushed into the closet before they could say, "What the hell?"

They looked up at the smirking group of people.

"Seven minutes," Paulina said.

"And evidence," Tucker reminded them.

The door shut.

It was silent for a little bit. In all honesty they were just in shock. There was nothing but complete darkness until a green glow came from Danny's direction.

"I guess these ghost rays also work as a sweet flashlight," he commented, laughing. His hands looked reminiscent to a certain Kim Possible character.

"Okay, there is _no way_ you are getting to second base now," Sam joked.

They both laughed, but with it came that awkward silence again.

"So…should we just get this over with?" Danny asked. "They said we need evidence."

"I hate this game," Sam muttered. "Honestly. It's just a reason for two people to get it on without the shame from their peers."

"Yeah…" Danny agreed quietly. "Completely immature…" He smiled.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Danny denied. "Just…you sort of seem to be stalling."

Sam stuttered. "W-What? Me? Stalling? Goths don't stall, they-"

"Nope," Danny said, crossing his arms. "They stall."

"Do you have proof?"

He gestured to her. "Exhibit A, ladies and gentlemen."

"We're the only people in here," Sam pointed out, sounding exhasperated.

"Fine," Danny gave in. "Lady and gentleman."

"Well, I wouldn't call you a gentleman…"

"Stalling," Danny reminded her.

Sam huffed. "Well, why are you so anxious?"

Even in the green light she could see him turn a little pinkish. "What? I'm not anxious. I just want to get this over with."

"Well, we've been in here for…" She checked her phone. "A minute and a half. During that whole time we've been talking about me stalling. If you wanted to get it over with you would've planted one on me the minute the door closed."

Danny glared. "Well…maybe I'm a little nervous, okay? It's not like a fake-out make out where it's just in the moment and for the sake of our cover not being blown."

Now Sam was curious. Something he said didn't fit…and it kind of made her hopeful. "Why are you nervous? I'm your best friend."

"Well…yeah," he said. He smiled at her in embarrassment and pain. "That's the point. If we kiss and something goes wrong—or right, I don't know—then our friendship might get awkward. And it'll just ruin things since one of us has feelings and the other one doesn't. And if both do then I can't imagine the Hell we'd go through if it worked out but we broke up and-"

Sam put her hand on his mouth. He looked up at her in confusion.

"You worry too much," Sam says. "Besides, it's just a kiss. We've done this before." She went over his little monologue. "And which one of us is the one with feelings?"

He looked down, sullen and now completely embarrassed.

"Oh," Sam said. On the outside was pure shock. But on the inside? It was the only time that she allowed herself, as a Goth, to think about sunshine and meadows. Because they were the best images to describe how she was feeling right now.

"Well," she continued. "Obviously you're more clueless than I thought…"

He looked up. "What?"

Sam checked her watch to divert the subject. This was coming out too fast, in all honesty. Like a writer was in a rush to get this done. "We've been in here five minutes. What do you think they think we're doing in here?"

Danny smirked. "Should I go into details?"

Sam laughed.

**#**

Downstairs, Pamela Manson waved the rest of her book club goodbye, satisfied. Reading "Little Women" had been an enlightening little adventure. She wondered how her Sammy-kins and her little friends were doing. She had heard some laughing and yelling that whilst rudely interrupting her book club meeting, was a good sign. It meant that they were having a good time.

She told one of the maids to go clean up the food trays.

Pamela then decided to scale the stairs up to her daughter's bedroom. It had been a while since she'd been in there. Strangely enough, she and her husband had been promptly banned from the place after what she would call "happy wake-up calls" when the sun rose.

She looked up at the door. Signs, drawings, and posters from Satanic (at least to her they were) "alternative" rock bands. She heard the doorknob click as she opened the door.

The children were crowded around Samantha's closet. Samantha and the Fenton boy were nowhere in sight.

She put her hands on her hips. "What is going on here?"

They all looked up. "Oh," Tucker said weakly. "Mrs. Manson. Hi."

She furrowed her brow.

"I say again…What. Is. Going. On. Here?"

The group looked guiltily at each other.

**#**

The two finished laughing.

"They aren't going to go off saying we kissed," Sam pointed out.

Danny pulled out his phone. "Camera phones." He flipped it open. "Ready?"

Sam sighed. "As I'll ever be." _Which has been a long, long time._

He set it to camera, and then 'flash'. "Let's do this."

She smirked. "Come on, ghost boy. Give me some sugar."

"Well," Danny shrugged jokingly, "if you insist…"

They both leaned over, meeting halfway. Danny held up the phone shakily for a couple moments, about to take the picture, but he let his hand drop. They had two minutes all to themselves. The picture could wait.

You know how when you kiss someone your mind can go blank? Well, with that goes all logic, really. All the reasons to not do what you're doing? Gone. All the reasons to hold back? Gone. All the lies, cover-ups, and denial? They jumped out of the window. They left their estate to their middle child. The other two children were furious.

But back to the point: all their previous protocol of what to do around each other had disappeared.

Sam reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. She's ruffled it on numerous occasions out of fake annoyance or to poke fun at him. But she liked how it felt. It wasn't think and tangled, but it also wasn't limp. It was just perfect to her.

Meanwhile, Danny felt the tingles of someone touching his hair. He always liked people touching his hair. Not pulling, of course, but playing with it felt amazing. It was one of those things that, as a guy, he never told anybody. It sounded too lame to outwardly express. But that didn't stop him from moaning a little.

Sam decided, on that cheery note that escaped his throat, to take her hands and force him to move closer. She backed up against the wall.

_At least one more minute_, she thought. _Better make it worth it._

She moved her legs over to the side so that he could crawl over. He sat next to her, still kissing her. She guessed that, being a ghost, the need to breathe wasn't as necessary. He had dropped his phone completely and now his hands occupied the job of joining his arms and wrapping themselves around her waist.

They were in their own little world. They forgot about the horde of kids waiting outside for them to reemerge. They forgot that this was supposed to be an awkward moment.

They didn't hear Sam's mom open her bedroom door. They didn't hear the interrogation. They didn't hear the timer go off. And they most certainly didn't hear the closet door open.

They did, however, hear Pamela Manson scream her head off.

Danny and Sam broke apart, turning red. So this is where the awkward kicks in.

Pamela scowled at Danny, who smiled foolishly and then realized his position. He scurried over to the other side of the closet.

"Oh," Sam said. "Hi, Mom."

"The party is _over_," Pamela announced viciously. "So I would suggest that you leave."

Danny, still speechless, nodded and crawled out of the closet, grabbing his cell phone. He stood up and looked to see the majority of his peers smirking and giving a look that screamed "I told you so".

"I always knew you two losers would end up together," Paulina commented.

"We're not losers," he defended. "And we're not together. What? Just because you and Tucker kissed doesn't mean you two are together." The group was still giving him the looks. "Fine. I'm going. Come on, Tucker."

"But I-"

"Come on!"

They were out of the house and stopped at a crosswalk when they started talking again.

"I'm sorry you didn't get your photographic evidence," Danny said bitterly.

"Come on, we all know you liked it," Tucker said.

"Yeah, I did," Danny confessed. "But that's the part that scares me."

Tucker glanced down. "Well, you don't need to worry about photographic evidence."

Danny looked at Tucker and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Tucker held up his PDA. There, in pixilated resolution, was a picture of Danny and Sam right when the door was opened.

"Delete that!" Danny ordered. "I don't want everyone else knowing. If Jazz finds out she'll be on my back for days."

"I would," Tucker said. "But I'm not the only one who took pictures…"

As if on some imaginary cue, Danny's cell began beeping with texts.

"You made out with Manson?"

"Dude, nice!"

"So, I heard you and Sam finally expressed outward feelings for each other. I was wondering if maybe I could keep you for an hour or two after school to see what the effect of telling amorous feelings has to the psyche."

Who can guess who the last one was?

Danny facepalmed. "Well, that's just great."

"Why are you so down on this?" Tucker asked. The signal changed and they crossed the street. "You liked it. Sam liked it. You like Sam. Sam—will probably kill me if I say anything else."

"Because," Danny explained, "I have this awesome friendship with her. We're a trio. We hang out, kick butt…and if something goes wrong and we never see each other, our trio becomes nothing."

"Actually, we'd be a duet," Tucker corrected. Danny glared. "Don't worry, dude. Everything will be okay."

**#**

So, after everyone left, Pamela Manson sat her daughter down. She told her that she was happy to reinstate that restraining order on the Fenton boy if he ever did that again. Sam, who was a little distracted, simply agreed, told her mother she loved her, and said goodnight. She changed into her pajamas and tucked herself in.

Danny got home after curfew, surprisingly not because of ghosts. Technus hadn't done anything. He robbed one small, going out of business appliance store. He would take care of it in the morning. His parents, who no doubt saw what their son had been doing, decided not to chew him out and let him go up to his room. He flopped onto his bed, not even bothering to change into anything more comfortable.

Who knows what happened afterwards. Who knows if the rumors became true. That lame-o Danny Fenton had made out with Goth Girl Sam Manson and they had gotten together.

One thing was for certain.

Both were smiling when they fell asleep.

**#**

**Okay, this has to be the longest one-shot I've written. Over 4,700 words! I usually stick in the 3,000 range. I had a lot of fun writing this, and sorry that it was late. It took a while to write and while you're on vacation near the beach bringing electronics near the ocean probably isn't the best idea.**

**Next up: a Danny version of "Fate Likes to Taunt Me", discussing the exact moment Danny got feelings for Sam.**

**Toodles!**

**-ZG**


	8. Stream of Thought

**Reviews have been amazing, you guys have been amazing. Everything is right in this world.**

**Next fact: I boogey board and love it to death.**

**#**

_Title: Stream of Thought_

_Setting: After Ultimate Enemy._

_Summary: Jazz is forcing Danny to tell her the exact moment he developed feelings for Sam. Sequel/continuation/variation of "Fate Likes to Taunt Me"._

**#**

Right now, I'm sighing. And you're practically breathing onto my neck. So will you knock it off, Jazz? Let a guy write in peace.

You know, as a member of the male human species, it's pretty hard to talk about emotions. Especially gushing, romantic ones.

Telling you I had feelings for Sam was probably the worst thing I could ever do. Because now you want to analyze the effects of teen love on the mental health. It's not _love_, Jazz. It's just a crush. Love is for sappy romance movies and my emotions towards family and food. I can't say that I _love_ Sam…

…I just like her a lot, okay?

Now you're telling me to pinpoint the exact moment I started getting these feelings. You're saying that it helped with the other party. What other party? Why won't you tell me? And why are you looking at me like that?

Fine.

I'll try my hardest to tell you.

I want to say it started in middle school, but you'd probably say that I'm being too "general". So I'll give you a more specific part of middle school: sixth grade.

Now you're asking about my thing with Paulina. Why are you making me write this down anyways? It's not part of the conversation. You answer me.

I'd write a response to that but you told me to keep my language mild.

So, anyways, my thing with Paulina. She's Paulina. She's pretty. Excuse me for not realizing her shallow side while I was distracted with…other things. Every guy fell for her. And besides, having feelings for your best friend can be an emotional rollercoaster. Having feelings for a complete stranger was a sort of break, I guess.

Hey, my penmanship is not that bad. Go back to your psychology books and leave me alone.

So back to the main focus of this paper you're making me write: when I first developed feelings for Sam. Sixth grade. A party in sixth grade, to be even more specific.

Middle school was a lot like high school. Only I didn't have the ghost powers. And I was even smaller than I am now. The eighth graders practically ruled everyone with an iron fist. Being a sixth grader meant that you officially had authority over the elementary school kids, but you were a wimp in your own right. Not fun.

Not to mention a train wreck of turmoil and awkwardness. Hormones were kicking in and everyone was starting puberty. For most girls it meant makeup, high heels, and either being best friends or at each other's throats.

For guys it meant finally starting to like the opposite sex, but wondering if it was even okay to. We went our whole lives running from girls with their cooties and weird bumps on their chests. We hid from kissy faces and giggling. We feared flirting and them having crushes on us. But all of a sudden that stuff made us want to be _closer_ to them, not farther away.

Of course, Sam never did that stuff. She didn't turn Goth until next year, but she made sure she kept herself from all the other girls. Her hair was still short, albeit in pigtails, her sneakers were dirty, and her clothes were baggy. During elementary school she didn't act like a girl, she was pretty much a girl version of a guy. And that's how Tucker and I became friends with her.

But during sixth grade things got a little different. She didn't transform into some sort of frilly girl, of course. She's Sam, duh. But the clothes became tighter. She wore eyeliner. Instead of obsessing over comic books she turned her attention to bands with lead singers that somehow made girls faint. She was still Sam, but a different version of Sam.

If you don't already know, I get a little weak-kneed around pretty girls. Of course, now I just lose my pants thanks to my intangibility firing off. The action would be convenient if I didn't happen to practically make them walking laugh machines every time it happened.

Now, obviously, I don't get weak-kneed around Sam. After all, we're friends. I can't be nervous around my friend. That would be like me swooning every time I saw Tucker (mental image not needed. Implications this image might have? Kill them while I still have my dignity). It doesn't happen anymore.

But back then? Puberty is a messy thing. It does things to your brain and how you think.

I had walked up to her at recess, about to ask if she and Tucker wanted to play four square or some other game.

I was getting close to her. "Hey Sam!" I called. About fifteen feet away…

And my limbs started to feel tingly. Maybe my leg had fallen asleep.

Ten feet away. "Oh hey, Danny!" Tucker called.

Eight feet away. My legs felt like Jell-O. I stopped.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You okay?" she asked.

I didn't speak. Why couldn't I speak? I could breathe, but my vocal chords were out of order. So when I tried to talk, it came out like this:

"D-d-do y-y-you w-waaaaaaa…" I droned. I sounded like a mental ward patient.

Both of my friends raised an eyebrow. I noticed that Sam wore her hair down that day. Huh, it looked sort of nice when it was down…she was nice…

I took a step and fell flat on my face. I got up.

"I…uh, never mind!" I said, running away.

It was like that for a whole week. I blamed my hormones for giving me insane crushes. I had fallen for the cashier at 7-11 the month previous.

When it ended I was relieved. The whole time I reassured myself it was just hormones acting funny. I mean, how awkward would it have been to have a crush on your best friend?

Yes, I see the irony. Don't remind me.

And it would've ended, too. If it weren't for that stupid party.

This kid, Reilly Blake, got his parents out of the house for the weekend with his sister for his babysitter. It's any kid's dream to throw a successful house party. So that Friday word spread fast. Everyone was going to the Blake's house tomorrow night.

Of course, our magnificent trio got a hold of this information during lunch. Tucker and I wanted to go, but Sam was against it.

"Why?" Tucker asked. He had finally put down his Gameboy. "It'll be our first party! We can set an image for ourselves!"

"I don't want an image!" Sam defended. "Images are stupid. They just box you into something. And if you don't like that image you can't get out. Even if I get an image I want to make sure it's something pretty spread out."

Sam was a little…philosophical in sixth grade.

"But it's just a party," I defended. "We go in there, talk to people, and if anything goes wrong we'll leave and have a movie marathon. Simple as that."

Oh, yes. So simple, young Danny. So very simple.

I wonder if it's possible that I can go back and slap myself for naïve I was being, Then again, I was only eleven.

"Yeah, Sam," Tucker agreed. He'd resumed playing his Gameboy again. "Dang it! Lost another life. Anyways, it's just to check it out. It's not like a high school party with drinking and doors with 'Do Not Disturb' signs in the hallway."

We shuddered. Thanks to health class with a paranoid Ms. Berkeley, sex was officially the scariest thing in the world at the moment.

"It'll just be a couple of us kids talking and playing board games," I guessed. "Nothing crazy."

Sam sighed. "Fine. We'll go. But if it does end up stinking we're going over to your house."

Kids from our generation like to grow up too fast. But they grow up in different ways. There are people you want to think mature. Take you, for instance. You're a junior and you're already writing a paper for college.

And then there are people who want to act mature. And to a sixth grader, mature means kissing, dating, and drinking caffeinated soda.

So when we got to the house, what you and I would see would most likely be a couple kids hanging out and playing games.

To me back then? It was like a drug-crazed chaotic cult meeting.

We didn't have time to leave. They shut the door immediately behind us.

We tried to stay together as a group. But the party had so much to offer. I mean, in one room they had snacks, the other one they had video games, and in the other room were kids just hanging out.

Tucker veered off the minute he saw ribs on the snack table.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Sam reminded me.

"We've only been here five minutes," I told her. "There's got to be something fun here."

"Oh yeah," Sam said sarcastically. "Because Candyland and making out is _always_ a good time."

It actually does sound good, now that I think about it.

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to a room where everyone was cheering. "Hey, they look like they're having fun," I told Sam.

"Well," she sighed, "we don't have anything else to do, do we?"

We opened the door to find a group of ten or so kids with an empty water bottle in the middle.

Wait a minute…writer, haven't we been through this before? Now you're asking who the writer is. It's…not important. But, seriously…again?

Anyways, the group of kids ushered us in before we could say anything. Soon enough, we were sitting next to each other while everyone cheered the spinning bottle. Under the loud hollering Sam and I were able to speak without anybody hearing us.

"Think this is fun now?" Sam asked.

"It can't be all that bad," I told her.

"Oh yeah," Sam said. "Because sharing my first kiss with Reggie Waller, the guy who broke the class record for biggest snot bubble, would _never_ be that bad."

"You think I'm not worried? What if I end up with Putrid Petunia as my first?"

She considered this. "Fine. Let's just go, then. That way we don't have to kiss anybody."

I nodded and agreed. It was foolproof, right?

Wrong. Because for some crazy reason, these things are always wrong.

The minute tried to head for the door we were called out.

"Fenton!" one of the kids said. "Manson! What do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving," I answered unsurely. My voice cracked midway through.

"You can't leave without playing at least once," the kid told us. "It's a rule."

Sam crossed her arms. "And what if we choose not to follow that rule?"

The kid shrugged. "Then we'll just think you two are too _wussy_ to play," he smirked.

Now, you might not think of that as an insult. Even now I'm wondering why that word scared me so much. There were worse words to use, really. But back in middle school being called a wuss, momma's boy, or chicken was practically a death sentence. It hurt the prepubescent soul.

I glared at him and then turned to Sam. "We're staying," I said.

Sam really isn't used to people having authority over her. Especially me. "Excuse me?" she asked. "Why are we staying?"

"Because Danny Fenton isn't a wuss," I told her simply. "And I don't think Sam Manson is either."

"You got that right," she agreed.

I smiled. "Well, then. I guess we're staying."

She looked at me blankly, realizing the trap she had set herself in. It was one of the few times I can ever remember being so manipulative.

I took her arm and sat her down next to me again.

Everyone took turns. Soon it was three people away from me. Then two. Then one.

"Alright, Danny," the kid next to me said. "It's your turn."

I looked around nervously. This was it. The biggest moment in any kid's childhood: the first kiss. It was kind of the "first time" variation of anybody under the age of thirteen. Whoever the bottle landed on would be a big deal.

Of course it always landed on the opposite sex, Jazz. Don't use your rule of probability on me. After all, this is a fictional universe. Stuff like that rule doesn't apply here most of the time.

Now you're asking about the fictional universe thingy. Let's just say trips to the Ghost Zone have taught me a lot of things.

Anyways, the bottle spun. And I was thinking. Who is it going to be? Will it be an awesome first kiss? Will be horrible? Will I need therapy because of this? Shut up, Jazz.

I was too immersed to notice that the bottle has stopped spinning, and everyone was just about stunned.

The silence is what startled me. After all, everyone was whooping just a moment ago. They were all looking at me, wide-eyed and smiling, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh," one of the kids said, "this is going to be good."

I looked down at the bottle and noticed the cap was pointed just a small ways from my direction, heading to the left.

Straight at Sam.

And everything just sort of blew up, at least in my mind.

I looked over to her, and she was alternating her attention between the bottle and me.

"You know what? I participated. She participated. Let's go." I was about to stand but when the other kid pulled me down. I landed right on my butt.

I smiled nervously at Sam for a good couple of moments as people cheered our names over and over again. The pressure was immense, but I couldn't do it. It'd be like kissing my cousin. Just…not right.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on," she said impatiently. She grabbed my face and pushed towards hers.

And kissed me.

It was a peck, really. Only lasted for a second or two. She pulled away and a sighed.

"There," she said. "Now we've _officially_ participated. We're going."

I was still in shock. Did that just happen? Like, seriously…did it really happen?

She stood up and grabbed my arm, pulling me up. She maneuvered us past the still cheering kids and closed the door, leaving us in an almost empty hallway.

I found my voice. "W-what was that?" I asked.

Sam looked at me, clueless. "What was what?"

"The kiss, stupid!" I yelled.

Sam shrugged. "Thought I might as well get it over with. You were kind of embarrassing yourself just standing there. Plus, we needed to get out of there."

Yes, you are correct. My first kiss was kind of a fake-out make out.

"But couldn't you just have…I don't know…rejected the offer or something?" I asked her.

"I could have," she admitted. "But that would mean that I'm a bad friend. Besides, it was better that my first kiss was with you than some strange kid."

This pleased me. "Oh really?" I asked.

She looked at me strangely. "Well, yeah. I don't want some germy, slimy lips on mine if I don't even know whose they are. I'd choose to kiss Tucker or you over anybody any day."

"Oh, so I'm germy and slimy?" I asked.

"No," Sam told me. "You were actually okay. Little dry, though. I'd suggest chap stick."

"Thanks for the criticism," I mumbled bitterly. It was silent for a little bit, so I decided to talk some more. "Um…you were okay, too."

Sam smiled and turned a little red. "Good to know," she said. She looked around. "Let's find Tucker and blow this fruit stand."

I grinned back. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Let's not tell him this happened, okay? He's been calling me your girlfriend lately to tease me and this'll just amplify it."

_My girlfriend_, I mused. "Huh—what? Oh yeah, for sure. He'd be on me for days."

But the minute I tried to walk, I felt my legs get tingly. Crap.

I got a handle on it after a week or two. Surprisingly, it was easier talking to her knowing that she was completely indifferent about the whole thing. As it can be already seen, I can talk to her and be around her easily. It's like maintaining my ghost powers.

Of course, little things will throw me off balance. Awkward physical contact, romantic implications, calling Sam and I 'lovebirds'…that's when all that work is thrown out the window.

So here you are, Jazz. A pinpoint of when I got feelings for Sam. Of course, other things happened these past few years, also. Let's not forget that famous camping trip experience, or all the fake-out make outs and Ember putting a love spell on me.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go catch a movie with Sam and Tucker.

And if you tell anybody about this…

I know where you hide Bearbert. And I will not show any mercy.

No, I'm not Dark Dan. I'm just someone who doesn't want this to be seen.

Goodbye.

**#**

**Eighth one-shot: completed! Yahoo!**

**I love how many reviews I'm been getting. It makes me feel so special and fuels me to keep writing, so continue what you're doing!**

**Keep leaving me story ideas. Either put them in your reviews or PM me.**

**Up next, Sam tries to convince Danny to go Goth. Inspired by a Tumblr post and watching Control Freaks.**

**-ZG**


	9. Losing the Bet

**Hello guys! Next one-shot, come on down!**

**Do I look like an orange ball of slime or an animator? Because I'm neither Nickelodeon or Butch Hartman. So I don't own squat.**

**#**

_Title: Losing the Bet_

_Setting: mdkvahufihibla STOP THE PRESSURE I DON'T KNOW_

_Summary: Danny loses a bet to Sam. Pure drabble._

**#**

"Come on, Sam. Do I really have do to this?"

"You lost the bet. Now get into the changing room."

Danny grunted as he looked at the pile of clothes in his arms. He looked up at Sam with pleading eyes.

"Hey," Sam said, hands on her hips, "I'm not the one who thought that I couldn't beat you in arm wrestling."

It was a pretty funny sight. They had challenged each other over the lunch table. They had struggled for a good five minutes before Sam started gaining the advantage. She slammed his hand into the table so hard it left a dent. Tucker videotaped the whole thing. It currently has over 500,000 hits.

"If you let me used my super strength you would've been toast," he defended.

"Ah, ah, ah," Sam vocalized. She waved her finger at every syllable. "But that would've been cheating, wouldn't it? Now go try the clothes on."

He narrowed his eyes and turned away from the Goth, trying to keep whatever he had of left of his dignity still intact.

"Next time I win a bet I'm having you go to Abercrombie and Fitch!" he threatened.

"Yeah, because _you'll_ win a bet," Sam smirked. "I'm so scared."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't use the sarcasm."

"And I would appreciate if you didn't use the whining."

Danny closed the door. She saw white rings through the bottom of the changing stall door.

"And don't even think about going intangible!" Sam added. "No powers, unless you want to wake up in an alleyway with no memory of the past five hours."

The rings flashed again.

Sam smiled as she decided to traipse the store for a little bit while he was changing. The Hot Topic store was packed with stuff. T-shirt graphics lined the walls. Hair extensions and piercing rings hung from little stands. She saw other versions of her spider backpack hanging on a rack with variations of owls, bats, and Pikachus. Literature memorabilia for books that _weren't_ in every tween girl's tiny book collection were displayed out front.

Simply put: it was heaven.

"Sam!" someone called from the changing area. Sam turned around to follow the sound. "Sam!"

"What?" she asked.

Danny's head poked out of the changing room, holding an item of clothing in an extended arm. "Aren't these tight pants…like…girl pants?"

Sam shook her head and smiled. "They're _skinny jeans_. And they aren't just for girls. Now try them on."

"But how am I going to be able to fit in these?" Danny asked.

"You will," she reassured. "Trust me. Now hurry up before people notice a girl in the guy's changing room."

He rolled his eyes and retreated back into the stall. "If anyone from school sees me like this I'm dead!"

"Don't worry. No one will see you. Tucker's at the Apple Store, Jazz is at Barnes and Noble, and no one is at our school expect for me is brave enough to come in here."

"Hey, I came in here."

"No, I tried to drag you in," she pointed out. "And then you went ghost and I had to keep you in the thermos until I got the outfit."

"I don't have to buy this, do I?" he asked.

"Not unless you like it. Which I'm sure you will."

"No, _you_ will."

Sam turned pink. "Excuse me?"

"You'll enjoy the torture of me having to dress like this. Not me."

"Oh," Sam sighed. "Just making sure."

"What did you think I meant?" Danny asked, suddenly curious.

"It's stupid," she told him. "Now stop talking and get on those pants!"

Outside, a stranger happened to hear Sam's last sentence and raised an eyebrow. They decided to go with their business and walk past without lingering on what he thought was going on in the changing room.

Sam sank down onto the floor and waited. She saw Danny slip one foot through the jeans, and then another. She heard his struggle to pull them up and watched as one of his feet lifted off of the ground.

"Stupid…pants…" he seethed through his teeth.

And with that, he tripped flat on his face.

Sam could half on his face squished against the cold floor, one eye looking up at her and half of his mouth forming a foolish, crooked smile.

"How're the pants doing for you?" she asked.

Danny glared. "What do you think?"

He pushed himself off the ground, flashing for second red plaid boxers. Sam turned red.

"Hurry up!" she called. "We've got more than just clothes to take care of!"

Danny groaned.

Five more minutes and Danny emerged, decked out in black skinny jeans, black combat boots, black and white AFI band t-shirt, and black, studded, fingerless gloves.

He had his arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. "What else do you want to do? Stick a spiked collar around my neck?"

Sam smiled. "I thought about it…I mean, you would match Cujo."

Danny glared.

"But I decided against it. But we've got some things to work on. Come on."

She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the store. "My clothes!" he cried. "My clothes!"

"We'll worry about them later," Sam said. "Besides, nobody who shops here would want to wear your clothes."

"Gee, thanks for the confidence boost," he retorted sarcastically.

She pulled him over to the jewelry and makeup section. She picked out a couple items and smiled, pulling him back over to the changing room.

She held up a place square of cardboard holding five metal rings. "These are fake rings. Now, put two on your upper left ear, one on your nose, and one on your other upper ear."

He looked up at her. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just do it!"

She watched him look in the mirror and place the rings with concentration, tongue poking out the side.

_Huh…he looks sort of cute when he's like that_, she mused thoughtlessly. She blinked. _That was unexpected._

He sighed when he put the last one in. "There. I'm done. We can go now, right?"

"Hey, be lucky that I didn't actually make you pierce anything," she pointed out. "And we have one more thing: makeup."

"Makeup?"

"Makeup."

"You have no idea how grateful I am that Dash isn't here."

"Oh, I do. So sit back. I've got to apply everything."

Danny sat back on the bench in the changing room while Sam leaned over, with one eye closed, holding up a black eyeliner pencil.

It wasn't his fault his heart rate started increasing. The position did it. A girl leaning over him always made him a little nervous.

He closed his eyes and Sam put the eyeliner on raccoon-style. It took a good five minutes.

She stood up straight. "And now, for the final touch…"

Danny opened his eyes. Ugh, they felt so heavy with the eyeliner on. "Wait, I thought that the makeup was-"

He didn't have time to finish. Sam shook a can of spray-on temporary hair dye and aimed.

"AHHHHHH!" Danny yelled.

Sam stopped spraying. "Jesus, it's just hair dye. Calm down."

He looked down. "I feel violated…"

Sam smiled. "Nonsense. Now, look in the mirror."

And with that Danny immediately went wide-eyed. Adding onto the already exotic ensemble were the fake piercings, thick eyeliner, and a streak of red through his hair.

"This washes out, right?" he asked. Sam was quiet. "RIGHT?"

Sam laughed. "Calm your tits, Danny. It'll wash out. Now stop freaking out and take a moment to appreciate what I've done for you."

"All you've _done_ is make my crotch hurt with these pants!" he exclaimed. "Honestly, how do people survive in these things? I can barely feel my feet."

Sam tried to suppress bursting out laughing.

"Listen, just take a look, alright?" she requested. "I think I did myself a good job. Besides, those jeans aren't meant for comfort. They're made so that the wearer's ass will look good."

Danny cocked an eyebrow. "Does it?"

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "Why are you asking me that? Beauty is—is in the eye of the beholder or whatever. You decide."

Danny took a second look in the mirror, turning around to get a full view. "Eh, I guess I do look okay. And my butt is looking a lot more appealing than usual."

Sam pulled out her phone. "Now to finish off the bet. Go out into the changing hallway so I can take a picture."

"Why?"

"Evidence. If anybody asks this'll confirm you went through with it."

He sulked. "Fine."

As he walked out, Sam couldn't help herself to cock her head to the side, taking in a certain view. "I guess he is right," she said to herself. "It is more appealing than usual."

Danny turned around. "You say something?"

Sam shook her head. "Uh, no. Didn't say anything at all."

He looked at her warily before taking is spot in the hallway.

Sam easily snapped a picture, smiling. "This deserves a spot as my wallpaper," she thought aloud.

"Please don't," Danny ordered. "People will think we're a couple."

"People already call us lovebirds," Sam pointed out. "What's the difference?"

Danny went red, but not for long. A chill went up his throat and a blue mist seeped out of his mouth.

"Oh, great," he muttered.

Sam eyes darted around quickly. What to do, what to do?

"Go back into the stall and change into your normal Danny clothes," she told him. "And then go ghost. You don't need another item on your track record."

He nodded and darted back into the changing room, pulling off all of the stuff and getting his normal clothes back on. He returned, slightly disheveled, with the red streak still in his hair.

"What do I do about this?" he asked.

"Wash it off later," Sam told him. "It probably won't show up in your ghost form. Just go and kick some butt! I'll get all of this stuff cleaned up." She gestured to the pile of clothes, gloves, and rings in the corner of the stall.

He nodded, changing into Phantom and leaving in the blink of an eye.

She cleaned up everything and went home when she saw that the mall, albeit partially in rubble, was safe. She kept looking at the picture of Danny. Goth did wonders for him. Perhaps she could successfully convert him.

The next day she heard her doorbell ring. She opened it to a glaring Danny, whose eyes were smudged with black. The red was gone.

"You have a little-"

"I know. There's no makeup remover at my house," he explained bitterly.

"Well, what's got your panties up in a bunch?" Sam asked. "I thought had begun to take a liking to the Goth look."

"I was," he confessed, his tone still deadpan. "Until I saw _this_."

He handed her the newspaper. The headline read '_INVISO-BILL'S NEW LOOK?_'. Below was a large, color photo of Danny in ghost mode. Only he didn't quite look the same, she realized.

There was a blue streak in his hair.

"'It probably won't show up when you're in ghost form'," he quoted mockingly.

Sam looked at the photo. "Huh, I guess it makes sense. Blue is the negative of red…" She looked up. "Look, I'm sorry. On the bright side, if you keep the look the Goth girls will be all over you."

"Please," he said, starting to smile. "You're the only Goth I know."

"Exactly," she muttered.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she smiled. _Clueless as always._

_Sometimes you frustrate me so much_, Danny thought. He meant to continue in thought, but for some reason he began to speak. He laughed a little and looked down. "You're lucky I like you."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Say again?"

He looked up. "What?"

"Something about me being lucky?" she told him. "I didn't catch it all the way."

"Oh, I was just saying…uh, that you're…you're lucky I haven't dragged you down to Hollister yet to wear a pink sundress," he covered up. "Which is what will be happening the next time _you_ lose a bet."

Sam smirked. "Bring it on, ghost boy."

**#**

**Okay, so not so fluffy. Mostly a lot of frustration and sexual tension. However, this idea has been nagging at me for a long time.**

**Keep sending me reviews and suggestions! I'll take the ones I like and make them a story, giving you the credit.**

**I love you so much, my babies!**

**-ZG**


	10. Icing

**Hey, there! Sorry for the wait, I had a brief bout of writer's block where I curled up into a ball of frustration. But that's done now! On with ze one-shots!**

**#**

_Title: Icing_

_Setting: They're fifteen. So…end of season 2? Yeah, let' go with that._

_Summary: "This one was the icing on top of the stupid cake." Warning: alcohol. Putting that T rating into some use._

**#**

Of all the stupid, idiotic, and just plain moronic things Danny Fenton has ever done, this one has to be at the top.

It just wiped out the competition, really. All the embarrassing incidents, self-obsessed endeavors…all of it. This one was the icing on top of the stupid cake.

It had all started with a party.

I, of course, had been reading safely in my bedroom. Or, as the rest of my parents called it, my "cave". Because, to them, I never left. Then again, they didn't know I snuck out the window repeatedly to fight ghosts.

The sweet sanctity of my bedroom was flawless. No Paulinas or Pamelas to try to influence me. Nope. Just me and my Mortal Instruments novel, safely curled up into a ball under my covers. Tank top, pajama bottoms, a hot cup of tea…perfection.

The chaos began when my phone started ringing. Shocking me from the fantasy of Downworlders, Shadowhunters, and the ever eloquent Magnus Bane, I picked it up, only to hear obnoxious club base beating on my ears.

"SAM?" someone asked. It was Tucker. "SAM ARE YOU THERE?"

"Yes, Tucker, I am," I answered.

"WHAT?"

"YES, TUCKER, I AM HERE!" I yelled into the phone. "NOW GET TO SOMEPLACE QUIET SO WE CAN HEAR EACH OTHER!"

There was a pause. "No need to shout," he said. I heard voices. People whooping, yelling. It sounded like hell, and not the good kind. I had warned Tucker and Danny not to go to that party.

"Come on, we've got to go," I heard Tucker say through the phone.

"But I don't wanna go," someone else slurred.

"Well, you have to," he insisted. "Come on."

Another moment, until the base had stopped. "Sam, are you still there?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah," I said. "What's the problem?"

It was silent for a moment. "Well, as you know, we went to that End of School Year party-"

"Otherwise known as Sex-Crazed Central," I interjected, smiling at the name I had given it.

"Yeah…well, anyways, we were having a good time. Everyone was dancing, girls were hitting on us-"

"Cue gag motion."

"—and I even got a girl's phone number. But then Danny started drinking the punch…"

I raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't cult-punch, was it? Like, cyanide-laced Kool-Aid or anything?"

"Not exactly," he told me. "It was spiked."

"With what?"

"How am I supposed to know? All I know is that someone got alcohol into it."

"Did you drink any?" I asked him. He didn't sound off, but just to be sure…

"I had one glass, but it tasted too funny. Too bitter. But Danny, well…"

My mouth popped open. "You're kidding me."

"I'm afraid I'm not," he said glumly. There was a rustling sound from the phone.

"He-ey, Sam," someone said. Oh god. No. "It's Danny. I'm havin' such a good time! You should come over here, the punch is good. Burns your throat, but it's still awesome!"

The rustling returned. "You can see now that I'm serious," Tucker deadpanned.

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" I asked him.

"You're the only one of us with a permit who _isn't_ intoxicated," he pointed out. "And we need rides home, fast. Danny's considering going ghost in public."

"But I can't go after dark!" I rebutted. "It's against the rules."

I could almost see him go into shock. "And since when has that stopped you before?" he asked me.

I sigh. "Alright. I'll be over there in a little bit. Where are you guys at?"

"Near the Hello Puppy store," he answered.

"Be there in five," I said. "Keep Danny under control."

"Will do," he said, and the phone clicked off.

I grabbed my jacket and sneakers before quietly slipping down the stairs to the front door. I grabbed my dad's keys and headed for his car.

I hoped those lessons came in handy.

**#**

So that leads us to now. I'm nervously on the edge of the driver's seat, trying to figure out which one is the gas and which one is the break. Luckily, the nightlife in Amity has depleted since, you know, ghost started showing up. The only danger I'm posing is to people trying to sleep has a screech to a halt at every stoplight.

I turn and make my way down the street a little farther, until I'm at the Hello Puppy store. I hate this place with passion of a thousand suns. But Tucker is sitting on the curb, all dressed up in an expensive work out jacket and sweat, his beret as Bedazzled or whatever.

I pull up where he's at, screeching at the stop. He puts his hands over his ears. "Nice hat, Tuck," I joke.

He frowns. "Very funny. Let's just go. This night has turned into a bust. Look!" He pulls out a piece of paper. "It was a fake phone number! I called into this lumber warehouse instead of the home of some girl."

"Hop in," I say, opening up the passenger seat. "Where's Danny? How bad is it?"

Tucker points to the top of on the buildings.

Danny is up there, in ghost form with a glazed look in his eyes. He's got on a goofy smile.

"I shall be king of the world!" he proclaims. "With my super ghost powers and stuff, I shall—uh, I shall rule everyone! Woohoo!"

"That bad," Tucker answers.

I get out of the car and walk over to where I am in front of the building he is floating on.

"Danny, get down here," I order.

"Oh, hey!" Danny says. "It's Sam! Hi, Sam!"

I roll my eyes. "Danny, get down here before you hurt yourself."

"Fine," he says. "Be a party-pooper."

He floats down, slightly wavering as he does.

"Now change back before anybody sees," I tell him. God, when did I turn into his mother?

He frowns, but the rings form and soon he's back to normal Danny. Or, rather, normal drunken Danny. He's got on a dress shirt that's somewhat un-tucked and a tie he's loosened. His hair is all messy, and he's swaying. I catch him when he starts to keel over.

_He looks a little cute when he's drunk_, a part of me says.

_Yes…he's drunk_, the other part points out. _And there we have a problem. So let's stop turning into a pile of gushy emotions, shall we?_

"How many cups of punch did you have?" I ask him.

"Six or seven," he answers truthfully. He looks up at me. "You look pretty."

I'm trying not to blush. He's drunk, he doesn't mean it. His brain is shut down at the moment.

"That's good and all, but we need to get you home," I say, hoisting his arm onto my shoulder. When did he get so heavy?

I'm able to drag him to the car and put him down in the back.

"Man, he's out of it," I say as I close the driver's side door.

"You should've seen him at the party," Tucker mumbles. "He was acting like a jerk."

"You—you're a jerk!" Danny slurs.

I turn the keys onto ignition. "Let's just get everybody home and me back to my book. I'm kind of disappointed that I got called out at night for something other than ghosts."

I drop Tucker off and he easily gets into his house, waving me goodbye.

I pull up to Fenton Works. The sign still shines like an artificial sun.

I open the back door. "Come on, Danny. You're home."

He sits up and stumbles his way to the door, lazily searching through his pockets. "Where's my key?" he asks.

"Oh, don't tell me you lost it at the party," I hope.

He continues to smile. "That part was craaaazzzzzyyyy."

I facepalm myself. "Oh great. Now how are you going to get in?" He shrugs. Then I smile. "Just go intangible and go through the door."

He nods. "Yeah. Intangibility: activate!" He runs straight into the door. Not through, but into. And falls flat on the ground.

"It looks like you're too inebriated to control your ghost powers," I tell myself.

"Heyyy," he slurs again, getting up. He smiles. "Maybe we good go back to your place?" He wiggles his eyebrows. Oh, ew.

"Are you _hitting_ on me?" I ask him.

"Only if it's working," he tells me.

I roll my eyes. "Come on, let's go. I guess you'll just sleep on my beanbag tonight."

"It worked?" he asked to himself. "Sweet! Woohoo, I'm getting action!"

I stop and turn to him. "No," I tell him. "You are not getting action. You are going to crash in my room. Simple as that. Got it?"

He smiles. "You get so pretty when you're mad," he tells me.

I groan. "This is going to be a long night."

**#**

Somehow I manage to Danny through my house without waking up anybody. I get him into my room and shut the door, sighing as I pull off my sneakers and jacket. Everything is okay. Nothing more will happen. You can get back to the Morgensterns and—

Nope.

Because Danny is jumping on my bed.

Of course.

"Come on up, Sammy!" he slurs. "This is fun!"

"Shhh!" I hush. "My parents just a couple rooms down. And don't call me Sammy. You know I hate being called Sammy."

He pouts as he jumps up and down. "But _come on._ Loosen up!" He goes and down and jumps back up again. "Weee!"

"Just get down and-" He's not listening. "Danny, I swear to god just get yourself-" He's ignoring me. "Daniel Fenton!"

"Shhh!" he hushes. "You'll wake up your parents. There's just a couple rooms down, you know."

I roll my eyes. Well, if you can't beat 'em…

I start jumping on the bed, crossing my arms and frowning. "You happy?" I ask him.

"Weeheeee!" is my only answer.

I start jumping a little higher. "Huh, this is kind of fun," I say to myself.

And soon enough I've been sucked into the childish game of jumping on the bed. I'm laughing. Why am I laughing? Danny's drunk, that isn't something to laugh about. Then again, he's laughing. And he hasn't shown signs of alcohol poisoning yet. Maybe it's okay to laugh.

"Two little monkeys jumping on the bed," he recites in a slur. "One fell down and bumped her head!"

And with that, he pushes me playfully, making me fall down. I retaliate, though, by grabbing his pant leg and dragging him down with me.

The laughing stops.

"Okay," I say, exhaling. "The fun's over. Get on that beanbag and-"

I'm stopped by something.

Something's on my slips.

No, _someone_ is on my lips. Danny.

He's kissing me? Why is he kissing me, I—

Oh, screw it. He's kissing me!

I give in a little bit, wrapping my arms around him. He doesn't taste like alcohol like I thought he would. He's just sort of…Danny. The punch must've worn off on his mouth a little bit ago. Funny, he's never been much of initiator before is situations like this. Then again, he's never been under the influence in situations like this.

I'm expecting you to judge me. Why shouldn't you? I'm letting a drunken guy kiss me. But he's also my best friend. The best friend that, if you're as clueless as Danny is, I've liked for a long time. And in all the times I've kissed him it's either been short, awkward, or a way to keep our cover. And those times that _weren't_ where we were trying to hide ourselves from danger, I had been the one to initiate. So judge all you want. Let me live this fantasy for a short while until I come to my senses.

Things are starting to become a little heated. I'm practically being forced into the mattress. His hand…where is his hand? Oh my god…why is it there? It should never be there! The only second base he should _ever_ reach around me is in baseball, which he sucks at.

But I only need to live this for just another minute or two…it's kind of nice…

Nope.

No.

I will not set myself as low as this.

I push him off, slightly dazed. I look at him. He's smirking. Why, the self-absorbed little—

I stop myself. He doesn't know what he's doing. It's the punch doing the work. Yeah, just the punch.

I exhale. "Wow. Okay. Didn't expect that." I gulp and look over to him. "Now, if you could just-"

He's kissing me again.

I push him off again, glaring. "NO! Get off!"

He frowns, confused. "But we were-"

"Listen, Danny," I interrupt. "This is as far as it goes tonight. If we go any farther we'll do something we'll most likely regret, you especially. So we're going to stop this, alright? If you're going to kiss me, I would suggest that you do it sober. So go over to that beanbag over there and fall asleep. You'll need it."

He looks like he's slowly taking in what I said. "I…but…okay. But can I stay right here?"

I look at him warily. "Why?"

"It's coooommmffyyyy," he drawls, lying down and closing his eyes.

I roll my eyes. "I'll let you stay here," I say.

He opens his eyes and smiles.

"But you can't make a move on me," I say.

And that is where he frowns. He huffs. "Fine."

I sigh. "Good. Now I can finally…" I yawn. "…finally get some reading done."

I pick up the book and read five words before I give up and fall asleep.

**#**

I wake up to light shining down on my face. Ugh, it's too bright. It's giving me a headache.

"Jazz, turn off the flashlight," I mumble. The sound of my own voice feels like a scream being blasted into my ears. I get an even worse headache.

Where am I? Last thing I remember was that I at the party, sipping some punch that tasted a little off, but was good nonetheless. And then Sam's face and then…nothing.

I look around. How did I get into Sam's bedroom? And where is Sam?

I move around a little to give myself a sense of where I am. Something's in my arm.

I look down to see a mess of black hair and a pale arm over my chest.

Dear god, it's like the camping trip all over again. But this time, I don't remember anything.

Wait, I'm in bed with Sam…and I don't remember…

"AHHHHHH!" I scream, flailing my arms everywhere. My head throbs. "Bad idea," I mumble.

Sam stirs. "Danny? You okay?" she asks.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "Everything's kind of a blur. And my head hurts and-." I stop as a feel my stomach turns inside out. I make a mad dash to the bathroom.

As I'm retching over the toilet, I get a brief period of _not_ having food coming up my throat. I look up to see Sam smirking.

"All signs of the classic hangover," she says smoothly.

"Hangover?" I ask. Oh god, here comes another one. I gasp for air. "I can't be having a hangover, I'd have had to be-"

"Drunk?" Sam finishes. She beginning to sound a little pissed. "Yeah, you were. Severely."

"How?" I ask. My stomach flips again.

"Apparently the punch was spiked," she tells me.

"Oh man," I say. "And I had-"

"Six or seven cups," she finishes again. "You told me."

I continue puking for a good five minutes until the pain stops, at least in my stomach. I flush the toilet and look up to see Sam with two tablets of Advil and some Pepto.

"These will help you out," she says.

I sit up against the wall of the bathroom, taking in all the medicine. After ten minutes or so I begin to feel the effects.

I exit the bathroom to find Sam in her room, impatiently kicking her feet as she sits on her bed.

"What happened last night?" I ask her, scratching my head.

"You got wasted," she tells me simply. "Tucker called me to pick you guys up after you tried to reveal yourself in public."

"I didn't succeed, did I?"

She shakes her head. "Lucky for you Amity no longer has a nightlife from all the ghosts. Anyways, I picked you and Tucker up in my dad's car-"

"Wait," I say. "Where are your parents? You don't think they saw us, did they?"

"Don't worry," she reassures. "They're off at the country club. It's the one day during the whole week that they don't jolt me awake at 6 AM."

I sigh in relief. "Good."

"Anyways, I got Tucker home safe and sound. I tried to get you home, but you kind of lost your key and ran into the door when you tried to go intangible."

I place a hand on my forehead. Ouch. Yep, there's the bump.

"So I brought you back here," she explains.

"Did anything else happen?" I ask.

She goes red.

As if on some literary cue (thanks a lot, author) I start getting flashes of memory.

_We're jumping on the bed. She's having fun. I'm having fun._

_We're lying down on the bed. She's telling me to go I can't just simply go someplace else. After all, she's pretty and we're on a mattress. _Something _needs to happen._

_I'm kissing her. She's kissing back. This is awesome. So awesome. I'm on top of the world right now. Well, actually, I'm on top of her…_

And waking up, snuggling? In bed? My eyes widen in horror.

"We didn't," I say. "Did we?"

"Well, no," she says. She's still red. "Not really. You tried, though."

"Sorry," I apologize. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," Sam tells me. "I'm just saying that Drunk Danny was a handful. And you don't have to apologize, it was the alcohol that made you what you were like."

"What was I like?" I ask.

"Very annoying, very childish, and very horny," she answers truthfully.

"So…what did we do, exactly?"

She goes red again. "Uh, we made out a little," she confesses quietly. "And you, um, may or may not have reached second base…"

"What?" I ask. Ow. My head. Bad idea, again.

Well, this just makes it awkward. Kissing was easy to deal with. Kissing was acceptable. But any moment an exchange between became an analogy to base ball was a moment where things crossed the line.

"It wasn't long," Sam reassures me. "And I pushed you off of me. The story ends there, I promise. Nothing more happened." She stands up, stretching.

I look down, embarrassed. "I swear I'll never do that again. Sam, I'm so sorry."

She smirks and nods. "Yeah, it was a pretty stupid thing to do. Probably the stupidest thing you've ever done."

I glare at her. "Not helping."

"Can we just forget this ever happened? You know, like before?" she asks.

"I-" I almost say I don't want to. But I hold my tongue. I've done enough damage. "Yeah. Let's just pretend that the past twelve hours never existed."

"Good," Sam says. She then picks up a pillow and whacks me with it.

"Ow!" I say. "What was that for?"

She smirks. "Well, I just woke up from a peaceful night of reading," she says innocently. "And all of a sudden you're here in my bedroom. Kind of freaking me out."

I smile back. "Well, you know. I have my ways."

"Don't make me give you a black eye again," she warns.

Everything's as it should be.

But even though I said I'm going to forget, I realize soon enough that's it's going to be harder than I thought.

And you know what? I'm sort of okay with that.

**#**

**Uh…yeah. Welcome to the result of me having writer's block for a whole two days. It isn't pretty.**

**I'm sorry if you didn't like this, I just thought it would be an interesting idea.**

**Review, please. I need your feedback like food.**

**-ZG**


	11. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**Hello guys! So, instead of updating whenever I feel like it, I am forcing myself into a schedule where I update my stories every Friday. You have been warned.**

**P.S. I know it's a Saturday, but these stories took me all day to finish. Plus, it's still dark out here. So let's pretend it's still Friday.**

**#**

_Title: Sweet Dreams Are Made of This_

_Setting: you know the drill_

_Summary: Funny, how vulnerable we are when we sleep. We can let anything slip._

**#**

It's just a sleepover, Manson; don't let it get to you.

Why are you worrying? So what if Tucker cancelled to go to Comic Con after getting a last-minute opportunity? Stupid nerd heaven.

Still, you shouldn't chicken out. It shows that you're scared, and you're never supposed to be scared. You're supposed to be that kick-ass girl who's not fazed by anything. Especially a sleepover with your best friend.

But this isn't fifth grade anymore. Having a sleepover at a guy friend's house is immediately linked to…other things. Sure me and Danny have never been like that—unless it was for the sake of our cover being blown—but the thought is still there. Sleepover at a guy's house? Most people think you're doing more than just sleep.

And I don't care what most people think. The problem is that the idea has been engraved into my mind ever since seventh grade.

I sigh and knock on the door to the ever-interesting Fenton home. Moments later, Jazz opens the door, giving me a slight smile and letting me in.

This is a house I've been to for multiple reasons. Hanging out, studying, ghost stuff, and even just as an escape from my parents. The weirdness here is just tantalizing, and the fact that the Fenton family is proud of their weirdness. Being ashamed of being odd is honestly a huge turn off for me in any kind of person.

Tucker is unashamedly a techno-geek. When he's not with us he's probably having a romantic cyber date with his charger adapter. Sure, he can be a little talkative and frankly is a tiny bit conceited, but he doesn't hide it. And when he does something wrong, he knows it.

Danny has his ghost side, primarily. But he's got other things, too. He is pretty obsessed with NASA, so much that I think Jonas Brother fangirls would cry in shame. He loves comic books and has a pretty identifiable hero complex, which he hates to admit even exists. And yeah, he has his downsides. More susceptible to peer pressure, kind of cocky, and he makes horrible puns. And I mean _really_ horrible puns. But don't tell him I said that.

And recently Jazz has come to be pretty awesome. She's a total bookworm (a passion we share) and is studying in psychology, something that can be very dark once you get into someone's head. And even though she doesn't look like it, she can kick spectral ass when she wants to.

So yeah, I like the unusual. That is why it's confusing that I'm suddenly feeling uncomfortable in this house.

I set my stuff down on the couch, stretching. It's a bit of a walk from my house to his, but it's worth it.

I mean…its good exercise.

Yeah, let's go with that…

"Danny, come out here!" Jazz orders from the stairs.

"Give me a minute!" Danny calls back from deep within the hallway.

Jazz smirks. "Sam's here!" she adds.

And with that, there's the sound of the door flying open. Danny emerges from the hallway, tripping a little while he's pulling his arm through one of his shirt sleeves. He halts with a screech at the bottom of the stairs.

Jazz smiles knowingly. She looks at me, smiling, shakes her head, and leaves.

Why was she…?

Oh.

That's actually…kind of cute. But I won't admit that out loud.

Danny smoothes out his frazzled hair. "Hey, Sam," he says. "Glad you're here."

"Yeah," I say. I look around. "So what do you want to do?"

He shrugs. "Uh…we could play Isotope Insanity 5," he suggests.

I smirk. "I call Player One."

"It's my house, I get to be Player One," he states. We're already walking up to his room where the TV and controllers are.

"Technically, it's your parent's house," I correct him. "Player One is a free for all. And I just called dibs."

"I called eternal dibs," he retorts.

I raise an eyebrow. "When?"

"Uh…a long time ago."

"Yeah, have a nice time being Player Two and, consequentially, my bitch."

He turns red in what I believe to be both fury and embarrassment.

**#**

I've made a top priority of mine to never beat up a girl. It's kind of common sense.

But kicking her virtual ass is something completely different.

Sam's biting her lip concentration as I plug in a couple commands to roundhouse kick her character in the face. She winces but easily retaliates my punching me in the gut—both in the video game and in real life. Ugh.

She laughs at my pain. Only Sam…

I try to maneuver my character, leaning to the side as I do. It's funny how we think moving ourselves is going to affect the game. It's not like I'm holding a Wii controller, but I feel like it helps.

She's leaning as well, in the opposite direction I'm leaning into. We're so concentrated on the game we sort of ignore reality.

And the reality comes when we practically butt heads together.

"Ow," we both mutter at the same time. It happens a lot, and frankly it scares the hell out of me.

We both continue to play after a moment of awkward silence (courtesy of mwa). She's beating me by a couple hundred points, and my energy is depleting.

God, if only I could just reach in and…

…oh wait, I can.

I silently turn into Phantom form and drop my controller, jumping into the TV screen. I'm facing Sam's character.

"Hey, ghost powers are cheating!" Sam says.

"Like I care," I say. "Didn't you use a ton of cheat codes on Doom, anyway?"

There's a pause. "Yeah. And I guess it shouldn't be called cheating if I'm going to whoop your butt anyway."

I smirk. "Oh, it's on."

I've got to say that having ghost powers is a great advantage. If I want to dodge an attack I just go intangible, and not to mention how the element of surprise and invisibility go hand in hand. Flying is a plus, too, considering that your opponent can't punch you if they can't reach you.

However, Sam still beat me.

And I don't know how the hell she did it.

It must've been a cheat code because one minute I'm having fun and she's making a not-so-nice signal at the screen, and the next I'm on the ground with very little life left. Five seconds I'm down and she wins.

I exit the game, rubbing the bruises I've suddenly received.

"You're scary," I say. "You know that, right?"

"Since fourth grade when I turned a Barbie into a voodoo doll," she answers. "So how does it feel to get your ass handed to you by someone in a skirt?"

I try to stay mad, but it's hard not to laugh.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I say.

Sam puts her controller down. "What now?"

I look outside. It's almost dark. "We could watch a movie."

"What movies do you have in mind?" she asks, getting up a sitting on my bed.

"Well…" I start. "We could either watch a horror movie that'll scar us for days or a really cheesy romantic flick that we can make fun of." I smile at the end.

"Who says we can't do both?" she says.

We pop in The Woman in Purple.

And an hour later, we're hiding behind a makeshift fortress of pillows and blankets. It's kind of pathetic, really. We've dealt with the spirits of the dead, but somehow a _movie_ has gotten to us.

When the movie ends, we both sort of realize that we've been holding onto each other for support. We both go red and move away.

Next, we move onto the cheesiest romantic movie of all time: _The Notebook of Paper Hearts._ Even the title makes us gag.

Five minutes in, the commentary starts.

"Typical start: girl is with douchy guy," Sam says. "And she's distraught when he breaks up with her. Good riddance, I say."

"So now she's going to a new place to start over," I continue. "_I wonder what will happen there._"

She smiles. "Her mother is disapproving of everything she does. Oh, look at that. I'm getting a serious case of déjà vu."

"Eh, she's supposed to be unlikable character," I point out. "Almost every Mom in these things is either clueless or going through major PMS."

Sam laughs at that. It stays silent for a couple more minutes until we reach a scene where the girl is despairing over her break up again.

"It's these kinds of movies that destroy feminism," she says. "You don't see me crying over a guy."

"I don't see you crying at all," I joke. But I don't hear any laughter. She's actually glaring at me. Looks like I just hit a sore spot.

I look around. "What I mean to say is…you're pretty tough."

"You got that right," she says. "Sometimes I think I out-man you."

And she just hit a sore spot.

Awkward…

A half an hour later: "And here comes Mr. Perfect," Sam introduces. "Smart, witty, funny, and handsome. Of course."

"Well, maybe not _exactly_ perfect," I mutter. I can admit that I might possibly be the slightest bit of kind of a little jealous. Sue me.

"No, he is," Sam defends. "But that's what makes him so irritating. I think he'd be called a Marty-Stu if Tucker was here."

"So…you don't like perfect?" I ask, just to make sure.

She scoffs. "Please. Perfect is overrated."

I nod. "Good to know…"

**#**

"…and she's going to marry him," I say. "And they're saying I love you. The mom approves."

"The End," Danny grumbles.

"Could you wait here?" I ask. "I need to go to the bathroom and puke out all the rainbows and marshmallows in my system."

"You're going to have to hold in until I'm done barfing myself," he warns me.

"And you know what?" I continue. "I hate how they just put 'I love you' out in the open after a _month_. Things like that take time." I look over to Danny. "No offense, seeing how you kind of professed your love for Paulina in seventh grade."

"Don't bring it up," Danny begs. "Please."

It was pretty adorable. It was six days after the first of class, when Paulina had just transferred over here. While every other girl was still experiencing the awkward side of puberty, it seemed she just graced through it. The guys noticed immediately.

Danny, Tucker, and I were over at the park—we weren't allowed to walk around too much—when he told us about how Paulina was an amazing person and how someday he was going to marry her.

"You always were a romantic," I say, snickering.

He scowls at me playfully. Danny's real scowls are a lot more spiteful. "Oh really, Ms. I'll-Marry-Billy-Joe-Armstrong?"

"Music obsessions mean nothing!" I defend. And it really did mean nothing. It was the cover-up I used after Danny overheard a conversation between Tucker and me. The topic? My newfound interest in Danny. "Besides, I don't grind you on your love for the Pussycat Dolls, no matter how annoying they are."

"Heh heh," Danny laughs quietly. "Grind…"

I throw something—I believe it to be a pillow—at him. "You are such a pig sometimes," I say. "You know that, right?"

"Hey, at least I have _some_ dignity left inside of me," he responds. "How much of it, I don't know. But there's still dignity…somewhere…"

I laugh and look at the time. "You want to set up for the night? I brought along a couple more movies."

He shrugs. "Sure."

Roughly twenty minutes later we're both in our PJs and sitting down watching Gore Night 8. Seriously, how many movies did they have to make to realize how bad it was?

And an hour later, we are asleep.

Well, Danny is anyway.

I'm having a hard time falling asleep. Maybe it's because of the fact that right around now I'm usually awakened by Danny to help clean up the new scar he's got that night. But we made sure there'd be no ghosts tonight for the sleepover. Not even Vlad could unlock the code to open the portal tonight.

Then again, a pass code like "" isn't very common, is it?

I sigh and get up. Maybe if I just go to the bathroom or walk a little bit I'll fall asleep. Why can't I possess Danny's ability to suddenly fall asleep like he's a TV show character?

Being a creature of the night can be both a blessing and a curse.

I return from the lavatory (sounds a little like laboratory. Don't want to get those mixed up) and I'm about to slip back into my sleeping bag when I hear snoring.

I walk over to foot of Danny's bed. Yes, call me a creep, stalker, whatever. But I will say this, and I will kill you if you ever say I actually used this description:

Danny is freaking adorable when he's asleep.

He's pretty much got himself splayed out across his bed. His mouth is slightly open, and you can see a little drool stream coming out. Okay, I'm going to ignore that last part. His hair is everywhere and he's got a small snore going on.

He stirs for a little bit, mumbling something I can't make out.

"Sorry, ma'am," he mutters. "We don't sell papers here."

I can't help but laugh a little.

I walk back over to my bunk and I hear him laugh a little.

"That's good," he says. He inhales and breathes out his words. "Oh why hello…" He laughs again.

Dear God.

He isn't having one of _those_ dreams, is he?

Just back away…back away and leave this memory behind.

I think I just got grossed out enough that I can sleep. Anything to get away from that. I shuffle back inside my sleeping bag and begin to feel my eyelids droop. My slipping away in unconsciousness when…

Danny laughs again. "Okay, Sam…" he breathes out.

My eyes snap wide open.

Maybe he means a different Sam.

There are a lot of Sam's.

It's a guy's name. He could roll that way, and just be covering it up really well.

And what about Sam Davidson, the girl from P.E. that I always got mixed up with?

It just can't be me he's talking about. No, sir.

I'm just going to sleep now.

**#**

I wake up in the middle of the night. Jesus, I was having one hell of a dream. It was both weird and awesome, I guess. If you looked at it two different ways. I mean on one spectrum _that_ was happening. And it wasn't supposed to be happening. Why should I be thinking of that happening"?

And on the other one: _that_ was happening. End of story.

To make it extra awkward, Sam is sleeping just a couple meters away from me. She doesn't know, so it shouldn't be awkward. But it is. So much.

I check the clock. Two in the morning. Ironic that any other night I would've been up anyways, kicking butt and taking names…sort of. But now I'm awake because I got shocked out of a weird/amazing dream. And I'm very conflicted.

Two in the morning does something to you. Everything just sort of explodes at this time.

I get up, making sure to avoid Sam, and go to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

"It's just a dream," I reassure myself. "Dreams don't mean anything. That sort of stuff only happens to fictional characters. And you're not a fictional character. Everything's alright. We can just forget about this."

Stop laughing, author. You're truly a horrible person.

I go back into the room, almost ramming my foot into Sam and tripping. But I stop myself. That's right, the klutz is learning. The shock!

She's curled into a ball, lying on her side.

She breathes out a couple words. "Pickles…no don't kill the cows. The cows will have vengeance on your soul."

I smirk. Same old Sam, even when she's asleep.

"Annie Lennox…what're you doing here?" she asks to nobody.

Who's Annie Lennox?

Eh, I'm just going to go to bed and shrug this whole thing off before—

"Danny, stop it," Sam mutters with a slight chuckle.

—something else happens.

I've never heard Sam chuckle. But now I have. Because of me…or a dream-version of me, but me nonetheless.

She giggles…wait, Sam can giggle? Is the world ending? "Danny, no. Not now."

She doesn't sound annoyed…

"Well…" she sighs. "Okay…"

…is she saying what I think she's saying?

No. I'm still dreaming. This isn't happening. It never happened. I'm going back to bed and dreaming safe, _pure_ dreams filled with food and happy animals.

I jump back into my bed and pull the covers over.

What happened tonight never existed.

Now if only I can convince myself of that…

**#**

I wake up, yawning. Well, that was certainly unexpected, given the chain of events. But it's a dream, so it shouldn't mean anything.

It's bright outside, and I look over to see that Danny is still asleep.

Nothing ever happened…what happened in your head stays in your head.

I get up and decide to wake him. I check the time…8:00. Perfect. Get some breakfast, go home and have some lunch, kick ghost butt, and then hang out with Tucker after his flight returns.

I hover myself directly over him and tap him on the shoulder. God, he'll freak.

"Danny," I say. "Danny, wake up."

He opens his eyes. "Dear god not again," he whispers.

Not again?

When would I be over—oh.

That's awkward.

I try to break through it, though. "In your dreams, loverboy," I say. Which is sort of true, if you think about it.

I stand up straight. "I'm hungry," I say. "And I'm pretty sure I can smell your mom's pancakes."

He's stunned for a second, but regains his composure. "Uh, yeah. Let's go downstairs. I think my stomach's about to eat itself."

We venture downstairs where Mrs. F is making pancakes (and ones that don't glow green and try to smother you. Thank the lord) and Jazz is already dressed and reading.

We sit down and are handed the pancakes.

"Last night was fun," Danny says. "I mean, it was just hanging out. No…distractions." He eyes his mom, who continues in blissful ignorance to clean the dishes.

"Yeah, it's nice," I say.

"Shame Tucker couldn't come," he adds. "I wonder how he got those last-minute tickets anyways?"

I shrug. "He told me some relative donated them to him at the last minute. I think her name was ZeeGee or something."

Danny glares and mutters something about authors and revenge.

Moving on…

I look at Jazz. "So what book are you reading?"

Jazz looks up briefly, only to return her eyes to the paperback. "It's a book about the psychology of dreams by an accomplished therapist in New Haven," she explains. "Very interesting."

"Uh…what does it say?" Danny asks hesitantly.

"Simple stuff…it's a light read," Jazz says dismissively. "You know, dreams are the gateway into your subconscious and how your psyche is really working. Reveals buried hopes and fears. Basic things."

Danny and I exchange an awkward, blush-filled glance.

I clear my throat. "Well…I better start getting ready to head home. You know, my mom would get mad if I was late."

Jazz looks up from her book. "Since when do you care about your mother's thoughts?"

"I don't know," I answer quickly. "But, you know, people change. So, uh, yeah."

I race up the stairs and start packing, changing into my normal clothes and rolling up my sleeping bag.

I look up to see Danny standing in the doorway, looking pale as a ghost (Yes, haha. Laugh away at the puniness of that sentence. Be prepared for a slow death later on.).

"Look," he says. "I don't know what exactly happened, but let's just say it didn't, alright?"

I nod in agreement. "Last night, and whatever was contained in that night when we stopped watching movies, never existed."

"Good," he says.

"Good," I repeat.

He looks around awkwardly. "So…you better start heading home if you don't want your parents to be mad."

"Oh, yeah," I say, getting up. I make it past him and I'm in the middle of the hallway.

At least he only thinks it's him who thought that way. I'd be screwed if—

"By the way, who's Annie Lennox?" he asks. "I, uh, heard the name on TV and thought you might know."

I stop in my tracks and turn to him. "She's the lead singer for Eurythmics. They were a band back in the 80s. You should check them out."

He nods. "Okay…so see you soon? I'm probably going to need to get patched up once all hell breaks loose again."

"Yeah," I say, and head downstairs and out of the house.

Looks like I have a sleep-talking habit I need to break.

**#**

**Did you like it?**

**Well, I need to go sleep. I hope you enjoyed this new installment!**

**-ZG**


	12. Ruse

**Hello guys! This schedule is really helping. I got this done earlier than I thought I would.**

**I'm going to use my T rating for some good use mwahahahaha. Oh, I love sexual tension. **

**Happy Hunger Games—I mean, I hope you all are enjoying the Olympics!**

**#**

_Title: Ruse_

_Setting: Season 2, of course. It's kind of my favorite place. So they're in the 15-16 area._

_Summary: A sort of misunderstanding arises in the Fenton house, leaving unimaginable consequences._

**#**

Danny and Sam knew that something was up the minute they were both told to be in the Fenton's living room right after school.

The first thing that set them off was that it was _only_ Danny and Sam, and not Tucker. Tucker was mildly offended by it, wondering how Danny's parents seemed to overlook him in what seemed to be an important issue.

That was the second thing that set them off. Jack and Maddie Fenton sounded so _serious_, and even a bit worried. Had something happened? Did somebody die? Was someone in a tragic accident? Did Jack realize that Danny had gotten into his stash of fudge?

Did they figure out that Danny was a ghost?

Also, Sam's parents were left out of this. Usually, in situations like these, the problem was Danny. And to solve that problem, Mr. and Mrs. Manson would drag their daughter, her friend, and her friend's parents into a meeting to discuss how Danny was problem. Usually it ended up in a threat of a restraining order that would never happen.

But no. It was just Danny's parents, in his own house, with one of his closest friends.

It was vague and endless, and that's what scared them the most.

"Just tell them," Sam said to Danny as they walked home from school. They slowly but surely were edging their way to the house with the Fenton Works sign nailed to the side.

"You know I can't do that," Danny reminded her. "What if they shoot at me, or try to experiment on me? I'll a fugitive in my own house!" He eyed her. "Besides, weren't you the one who told me to keep it a secret, anyway?"

"That was a year ago," Sam pointed out. "And that was before you became a hero. Now with all your responsibilities you really have no choice. At least they have a good chance of accepting you." Her voice lowered. "Unlike my parents."

"Yeah, you're parents hate who you are," Danny said. He'd heard the speech many times. "I know that. But I don't hate you, right? That's got to count for something."

Sam smiled. "It does. I just wish my mom and dad could see like you can."

"I don't think they'd want to get into a teenage boy's mind very much," Danny winced jokingly. "And even if they did I don't know if they'd be able to survive mine."

Sam laughed. "True." She paused. "But you should tell them. And I'll be there to back you up, okay?"

Danny nodded. "Okay…but if I turn into a glob of ectoplasm I'm blaming you."

They stopped in front of the towering, odd structure that Danny Fenton called "home" since before he could remember.

"So…let's do this," Sam exhaled.

"Yup." Anyone could see he was beginning to sweat profusely.

They opened the door to house to find Jack and Maddie Fenton sitting on their armchairs, leaving space for the teenagers on the couch. The two adolescents glanced at each other before simultaneously sitting down.

Jack was polishing a new gun. "Like it?" he asked the teens. "It's then new Fenton Plasma Launcher. It'll tear any ghost apart in seconds. Of course, it's still in beta at the moment, but afterwards BAM! The ghost won't know what hit 'em."

"That's very nice, Mr. Fenton," Sam said, looking at Danny with concern. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"Jack, put the weapon down," Mrs. Fenton ordered. "We need to have a serious talk with Danny and Sam, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jack remembered. He set the gun down.

"Mom," Danny said, his voice cracking for nervousness. "What's this about?"

"I think you and Sam know plenty well what this is about," Maddie responded, arms over her chest.

Another glance. "Actually…we don't."

"In all due respect, Mrs. Fenton," Sam added. "We're kind of clueless right now."

Maddie's face softened. "Oh," she uttered. She looked up to Jack. "Well, Danny, your father and I have been noticing some strange behavior lately with you and your friends."

"At first we thought it was one of those hip new mind-changing drugs they were selling on the street," Jack said. "But we got the test back negative."

"How exactly did you guys get me to do a drug test without me knowing?" Danny asked. He cringed at the thought.

"We have our ways," Maddie answered. "And we knew it couldn't be alcohol." She sighed. "Listen, Danny. We've figured it out. Why you all are always running off, why Jazz and Tucker are constantly covering up for you, why you're nervous around your father and me, and why you're coming home with those hideous scratch marks on your arms."

Danny sighed. "Listen, Mom and Dad. I was going to tell you, but the right time never came up."

"We can understand," Maddie said. "It's an always an awkward thing to tell your parents."

_They make it sound normal_, Danny thought. "Uh…yeah. But I guess now's the time to say it, right? And you won't judge me?"

"We don't judge any of you," Jack reassured him.

Danny smiled and looked at Sam. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

"Well, Mom and Dad, I'm glad that you accept the fact that I'm a gh-"

"I just want to ask," Maddie interrupted. "Are you using protection?"

Danny froze. "Protection?" he repeated. "Well, I mean, yeah." He had the weapons, the thermos, everything. "I make sure I'm protected all the time."

Maddie sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God. You should still be careful, though. Teen pregnancy is rising and-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Danny stopped. "_Pregnancy_? Why would we be talking about pregnancy?"

Maddie blinked. "Well, sweetie, your health class must've taught you _something_. When two people are…involved…there's a risk."

Danny took a minute to let this sink in. His parents thought that he and Sam were…you know? Oh man, Tucker was going hate missing this. He could imagine his friend rolling on the floor right now. Jesus, he'd be on them for weeks.

The half-ghost tuned back into reality. "Okay, Mom, back up. You've got it all wrong. Me and Sam aren't having-"

"Danny, we can stop pretending now," Sam interjected. Danny looked at her, confused. Sam's eyes pointed to his parents, and then to the gun. She had a brief stressed look that he couldn't understand. She turned to Danny's mom. "Well, Mrs. Fenton, you caught us. I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner."

Maddie smiled. "It's alright, dear. It's a very embarrassing situation. I remember having to tell my parents that I was-"

"Ew, Mom," Danny said, still confused. "No. Just no."

Maddie nodded. "Well, we just wanted to make sure you two were being safe with your choices. Sam, do your parents know?"

"Not yet," Sam said calmly. "But…we were planning to tell them later, along with you guys. But yeah, now you know. And that is our _only secret_." She looked over to Danny.

"What?" he asked, slightly shocked by how well Sam was lying. "Uh, yeah. Sorry." He grinned sheepishly.

"You don't think we remember being teenagers?" Jack told them. "With all the hormones rising, all the changes with your body…it's all good."

"Okay," Danny said. "Good."

Maddie exhaled, feeling content. "Well, I'm going to go start dinner. Sam, do you want to stay?"

"Sure, Mrs. F," Sam answered.

"And I'm going to work on this baby right here," Jack announced, eyeing the shiny, large gun. He patted Danny on the pack. "Good on you, son." The boy turned crimson.

And with that, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton left the two teenagers.

Once he made sure the coast was clear, Danny spoke.

"Sam, what the hell was that?" he asked, arms in the air.

"It's a cover up," Sam explained. "Kind of like a fake-out make-out, except it has sex and we're not doing anything."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Danny asked.

"I've lied to my parents before," Sam reminded him.

Danny was too confused, and he didn't want to keep a quiet voice. "Come on," he said, taking Sam's wrist. He pulled her up the stairs. "We're going to my room."

"Don't make too much noise!" Mrs. Fenton yelled from the kitchen.

Both went beet red and wide-eyed, pausing on the stairs for a moment but then resuming their pace.

"Oh, this is going to be awkward," Danny said to himself.

**#**

He shut the door and stared at Sam.

"You realize that _that's_ sort of stuff from my mom is going to happen all the time now, right?" he asked her.

Sam blushed slightly. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't the _wisest_ decision, but-"

"You realize how gossipy my mom is?" he continued. "By the tomorrow half of the school will think we did it." He sat down on his computer chair, hands on his face in despair. "This is not happening!"

Sam looked around. Oh, this was one hell of a mess she'd got them in. Now to find a way out…

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, maybe we can find a way out of this," she soothed. Sam smiled. "I have an idea."

Danny looked up, his face the epitome of sarcasm. "Oh yeah," he said. "Because your ideas have been _so helpful to me_."

Sam crossed her arms over her chest. "You have any ideas to make this easier?"

He looked around, and then sagged, defeated. "No."

She smirked. "Thought so." She plopped herself on the bed.

"So what's this idea of yours to make this whole—thing or whatever—easier?" he asked.

"It's easy," Sam said. "We just play along for a little bit."

Danny blinked a couple times. Did she just say what he thought she just said? "Play along?" he repeated. "Why? For what purpose?"

"For your cover," Sam answered. "We can tell your parents the truth later on, and then we pretend to break up on good terms."

"You make it sound so simple," he muttered.

"I know it's not," she told him. "I know the consequences of what I did. People are going to be calling me a whore for weeks on end."

"Yeah, but you don't care what people say about you," he pointed out. "I do."

"So?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "With guys it's completely different. You'll be getting pats on the back and whoops. Remember how it was during camping?"

Danny turned red. "Well…yeah. But we were able to convince people that nothing happened. It'll be hard trying to end this."

"I know that. After all, rarely anyone breaks up on good terms with their first—I'd be your first, right? Or I'll be pretending to be?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Sam," he deadpanned. "Don't you think if I had already gotten lost my virginity I would've told you and Tucker? Or, even more likely, screamed it from the ops center for the whole world to hear?"

She waved her arms. "Right, right. Stupid question. But we'll just have to see how this plays out." She stood up. "So, are you in?"

Danny thought about this for a moment. It would only last a couple weeks, right? And it was for the sake of his cover being blown. It was perfectly fine.

"Okay," he sighed. "I'm in."

"Good," Sam said. "So how do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you think we should act? We can't just _say_ we've done stuff; we've got to act like it. Didn't the eighth grade Drama class teach you anything?"

"Actually, no," he told her. He twirled in his computer chair mindlessly. "But it sounds logical." He paused. "Wait, why are you asking me? I thought you were the one with the plans."

She shrugged. "I dragged you into this. I thought you might want a say in it."

He smiled devilishly. "Well…"

"But we do need to have boundaries," Sam interrupted. "Don't want to make this any more awkward than it already is."

"Okay, how about nothing more than groping?" He wanted to see how far this could go.

"Uh, how about _no_?"

"Slight touching?"

"Nope."

"Second base?"

"Negative."

"French kissing?"

Sam shook her head.

Danny grumbled. "You're taking the fun out of this, you know."

Sam smiled. "Oh, I know."

He thought for a bit. "Okay, so hand-holding, hugging, and closed-mouth kissing. Does that include making out?"

"In a sense, yes," Sam told him.

"Cool," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a teenage boy."

"I _am_ a teenage boy."

Sam laughed. "Okay…oh! And for extra effect, we'll sneak out in the middle of class and hang out in the janitor's closet for five minutes or something?"

"_Five minutes_?" Danny repeated, flabbergasted. "Well, thanks for ruining my self-esteem."

Sam was about to speak when someone called from downstairs.

"Danny!" Maddie yelled. "Sam! Dinner's ready!"

Danny got up and started to open the door when Sam got in his way.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you not remember coming up here?" she asked. "You're mom thinks that you and I were doing…things."

"If by 'things' you mean 'each other', than yeah, I know," he said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"We can't just go out there looking all pristine and pure! We've got to look surprised and kind of messy."

"You've been watching those high school movies again, haven't you?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and started adjusting her clothes. She ruffled up her shirt and made her skirt go at a crooked angle. She then took her hair band out, shook her head, and lazily put the hair band back in. "There."

Danny looked at her, clueless.

Sam sighed and forced her hands into his hair. She popped his shirt.

"Okay, now that we look like we've rocked each other's world," she said, "we can go downstairs."

"Uh…okay," Danny said.

They bounded down the stairs, trying to act normal. They sat themselves down in the kitchen, Jazz looking at them suspiciously.

"So…I'm guessing Mom told you," Danny estimated weakly.

Jazz eyed him. "Yes, she did. But I don't understand. You guys were never-"

"We'll explain everything later," Sam said. "But for right now, just pay along with it, okay?"

Jazz huffed and went back to her book. "Okay…"

Maddie Fenton set down the food and everybody dished up. During the whole dinner each member of the family simultaneously glanced at the supposed couple.

"This is getting a little awkward," Sam whispered.

Danny turned to her and whispered into her ear, cupping his hand. "You think this is awkward for me? My Mom hasn't looked at me like this since I accidentally blew up half of the lab."

Sam laughed at the memory, but was soon cut short.

"Kids, I'm fine with the status of your relationship," Maddie said. "But there will be no ear-nibbling at the table, please."

Both went wide-eyed, scooting away from each other and trying not to blush. They failed horribly.

"So…when exactly did you two start dating?" Jazz asked.

Danny glared at her. She of all people should know that they were lying. But he quickly pieced together a good fabrication.

"Uh…since a few months ago," he lied.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jack asked.

Danny was about to speak when Sam interjected. "We were a little embarrassed, in all honesty. What with everybody calling us 'lovebirds' and, um, it just seemed like we'd be made fun of."

"Oh, so do you want us to keep this a secret?" Maddie asked.

"Yes!" both Danny and Sam said urgently.

"Yes, please," Danny begged. "I'll do the dishes for a year."

Maddie was a little surprised. "Well…I didn't know you two were so bent on keeping this a secret."

"Yeah, Danny has a thing with keeping secrets," Sam muttered. Danny kicked her. "Ow!" She glared at him.

He shrugged and smiled. "What? I didn't do anything."

Sam returned to her food spitefully.

"So I'm guessing this recent…development happened rather recently?" Jazz asked.

Both looked up, unsure of what to say. This was, after all, a very uncomfortable question to ask while eating dinner.

"Uh…" Danny droned. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. A couple weeks ago." He paused. "I'd rather not go into detail and just return to eating, thank you."

The table was silent from then on.

Everyone finished eating and loaded their dishes up. Danny and Sam returned to their room to study—and they showed their backpacks for proof—to avoid any more awkward questions.

"_That_ won't be the subject of my nightmares," Danny commented as he set out his books.

"At least we won't have the whole school knowing," Sam said. "I bet Tucker will freak out when he hears this."

"He's going to hold it on us for all eternity," Danny groaned. "I can imagine him now: giving us a 'Congrats on the Sex' cake during lunch."

"Then I'll just have to kick his ass," Sam reasoned.

Danny continued to set up his homework, but a question was bothering him.

"Why would people think that we'd do that stuff?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. "God, it's like that weird fan site all over again, but with my _parents_."

Sam shrugged. "Probably because of recent events," she guessed, even though she regretted saying it the moment it left her mouth.

He turned a little pinkish. "Yeah…I guess we haven't been acting very 'friendly', have we?"

"It's just hormones," she reassured, but mostly for herself. "It's what most kids go through. It'll pass." She smirked. "But yeah. And _especially_ in public. Who can forget the time you got drunk?"

"And the future kids thing," Danny reminded her.

"My party last month," she laughed.

"Me accidentally walking in on you," he added.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "We never told anyone about that."

Danny looked down. "Well…I may or may not have told Tucker."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"He asked me if anything interesting had happened when I was patrolling," he reasoned. He looked like a scared caged animal.

"That's where you say 'I kicked ghost butt'," she said. "Not 'Oh I saw Sam in her underwear and we made out'."

There was a silence and they became flushed at the memory.

"If it makes you feel any better he egged me on about it for three weeks," he said.

"It doesn't," Sam told him. She cracked a smile. "But I still think it's pretty hilarious."

With the tension broken, they returned to their school work.

"What did you get for number twenty?" Sam asked.

"I don't know yet," Danny answered. "I'm still on question eleven."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Here, let me help you. It sounds like you need it."She walked over to him, head resting on his shoulder and arm pointing out what to do to solve for _x_.

"You just use Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally," she told him. "And then you've the equation reduced to _x_ minus 5 is equal to…"

Danny kind of stopped listening once he looked up.

How could he not? Even when she started talking he had a hard time concentrating. He could feel her breath on his neck. She guided his hand across the book to show him the instructions and theorems. Her hair brushed against his cheek. Did she realize how much she was putting him through right now? Half of him was tempted to pounce on her, but the other half was telling him he was a bad person if he did.

Then again, someone could come through the door any minute. And they needed to keep this ruse up, right?

"…so then you divide by 2 on each side and—Danny, why are you staring at me?"

He couldn't talk. His whole mind shut down, letting something else act for him.

He reached up to her face and kissed her.

Sam was wide-eyed for a couple moments, frozen. Where the hell had this come from? Why was he doing this? Why…

Why was she standing there like a statue? Danny Fenton was kissing her. She couldn't pass up an opportunity!

She cupped his face and themselves up so that they were standing. He kept stepping towards her, so she continued to blindly move backwards.

Her calves hit something. The bed. Oh, how coincidental yet convenient.

She fell back on it, moaning a little when the top of her head hit the headboard. That was going to leave a bump.

They didn't break from the kiss, and need to breathe suddenly became null and void. He ran his fingers up into her hair and she reciprocated. She wrapped her legs around him slightly, pulling him closer.

This lasted for another good minute, until the doorknob creaked open.

They pulled apart to see a slightly shocked Maddie Fenton.

"Oh," Danny said. "Hey Mom." He didn't move away from her.

"Sorry kids," Maddie apologized quietly. "I just came in here to say that Sam's parents want her home soon. So I'll just leave you to your studying…I guess." She closed the door. Even in between the wall they could hear her utter, "They're like rabbits!"

They stayed like that, staring at the door until they realized their current position. Danny stood up and cleared his throat while Sam pivoted herself so that she was sitting on the bed.

"Wow," Sam breathed. She was looking blankly at the wall. "That was pretty…wow."

He stared off into space. "Ditto."

She turned to him. "Is your hearing really that good?"

That caught him off guard. "Huh?"

"Your hearing," she repeated. He blinked. "I mean, how else could you have known that your mom was coming upstairs two minutes before she even showed up?"

"Oh!" He realized, surprised. It was better than the excuse he had planned. "Yeah, it's really good. You know, ghost-enhancing my senses and…stuff."

"Right," Sam said. They were still reeling over their little escapade. "I think that was the Ultimate Fake-Out Make-Out."

Danny laughed. "You ranked them?"

"No, but this one was pretty awesome."

He smirked. "That's good to know. My self-esteem is suddenly regaining itself after your whole 'five minutes' thing."

She punched him playfully. She stood up. "I better get my stuff together. If I stay any longer my parents will get into a Dolce and Gabbana frenzy."

Sam got her things into her spider backpack and headed downstairs. Danny followed her.

"Just have to keep this up until you get the guts to tell them the truth," Sam said as they neared the door.

"I'm thinking a week," he said. "I've got to make sure my dad doesn't have any untested weapons around him when I reveal myself."

"Hopefully we'll survive this," Sam said.

"It's just around my parents," he pointed out. "I'll tell Jazz tonight."

She opened the door. "Sounds like a plan. I'll call Tucker and tell him, alright? After all, it was my idea to get us into this mess in the first place."

"Sounds good," he said.

She was about to exit when she saw Danny's parents peering through the doorway. She turned around a kissed him for a couple seconds.

Danny was a little dazed. "What was that?"

"It's called 'playing along'," she told him. And with that, she left.

Danny walked back up the stairs to his room, grinning wildly with a lazy look in his eyes. "Maybe this plan isn't as bad as I thought."

**#**

**This took me a couple days to write, what with my other stories and babysitting and other life issues. Yes, they are sixteen. And judging from my time in high school, they could be doing a **_**lot**_** worse. I really hope this was okay, or at least acceptable.**

**Reviews are welcomed.**

**See you next Friday!**

**-ZG**


	13. Love Struck

**Me: Over 100 reviews? I—I… *faints***

**Danny: Get up. You have a story to write.**

**Me: W-What? Is this heaven? Am I dead?**

**Danny: No, you're hallucinating. Now go write. They need a new chapter before I get you back for all those awkward situations you put me in with Sam.**

**Me: You know you liked it.**

**Danny: I…I'd rather not respond to that.**

**#**

_Title: Love Struck_

_Setting: After "Fanning the Flames", for sure. They're all around 16-ish._

_Summary: Ember returns. After an encounter with her, Sam begins acting very strange…_

**#**

I'll admit; ghost hunting is a big part of my life.

It interferes with school, family, and friends. But the place it affects the most is my love life…or whatever fragment of a love life I have.

I mean, seriously? I could deal with not getting a good grade. I would rather avoid family game night anyways (imagine the rage that comes with Monopoly, but add weapons). I could always catch that movie with Sam and Tucker another night. But I swear I'll be single for the rest of my life.

First example: Paulina. She says yes to be my date to the dance. Okay, maybe it was to make Sam jealous, but nonetheless she said yes! And what happens? She turns into a goddamn dragon, and makes Sam so pissed she turns her into one as well. And don't even make me mention the whole thing with Kitty. That was just cruel. Oh, and her obsession with my ghost half is borderline stalker material.

Second example: Valerie. So we had this good friendship going, and it was turning out to be something more. And let's not forget those "coincidences" Technus dropped on us that made us closer. She didn't care that I wasn't popular, and she likes Sam and Tucker. The catch? She hates Danny Phantom with the passion of a thousand burning suns…and that's an understatement. Not to mention, she thought _her_ ghost hunting was going to put me in danger.

You can see how well this is going for me.

And the third example: Sam. Okay, so she's not exactly an example. Besides, it's not like I _like_ her or anything…kind of…

Anyways, I don't think I will ever be able to live up to Ember's love spell. And the time when she made it so that I never knew her was messed up.

Oh, and what is about to happen, for instance.

I fly over the fair but very weird city of Amity Park. As a kid I always dreamed of flying, and what it would feel like. I always imagined it to be this fast, sudden, powerful motion, but it's not. It's smooth and peaceful. Yeah, it's still a powerful feeling, but not "I'm the ruler of everything" powerful. I mean, would you feel important if everyone was literally looking up at you? Yeah, I thought so.

However, the feeling that comes with flying is soon interrupted by the sounds of a concert.

I hover over to the park to find a huge stage already set up.

"_Welcome to the come-back of the century!_" an announcer says. The crowds are forming already. "_Ember's Recall Tour!"_

Ember? Great, she's back.

A couple notes of her infamous hit single start playing. I press on my communication device.

"Sam, Tucker," I say. "Do you have your Fenton Phones in?"

"Yeah," Tucker says. "Why?"

"Let's just say that blue hair dye is going to be the next big thing," I hint.

"Got it," he responded.

"Sam? Did you hear that?" I've got to make sure…

"What? Yeah. Sorry, I'm listening to the audio tape of _Catcher in the Rye_," she explains.

"Concentrate," I tell her. "I don't want either of you under her spell."

"We know, Danny," Sam says. "You ready to kick some butt?"

"As I'll ever be," I answer. "Let's go."

I swoop down over the mass of people. God, it's like moths to a flame.

A giant, blue flame, that is.

The people are chanting her name. "EMBER! EMBER!"

Ugh, I'm going to go deaf.

And there she is, singing the only song she's written. If you're going to call it a comeback tour, shouldn't you have a new song to actually _come back_ with?

Sam and Tucker are over at the park entrance on their motor scooters, a ray gun and Fenton thermos in each hand. Well, in Tucker's case. Sam's got a CD player, obviously played that audio version of the book we're supposed to be reading.

But I can't worry about her right now. She's got the Fenton Phones and she hasn't been affected yet. Right now, I've got to worry about sending Ember back into the Ghost Zone.

She's in the middle of the chorus.

"Hey, Ember McLoser!" I call out. Okay, not my best. But it catches her attention.

She has the rest of her goons continue playing while she stops singing.

She growls. "What do you want, dipstick?"

"Leave these people alone," I order. "They don't need you to brainwash them _again_."

She smirks. "Well I just can't do that, baby pop. You seem tense. How about a C chord to calm you down!"

She strums her guitar in one fluid motion, sending a colored sonic wave in my direction. I get shoved into a speaker, the sound deafening my ears.

I shake myself off and fire at the stage, destroying the amps, drums, and guitar. But they reappear.

They're still chanting her name.

"You underestimate me," she says into the microphone. "You realize how long they've been chanting? And let's not forget my huge fan base in the Ghost Zone. You have no idea how powerful I am right now."

I can see it. Her blue hair rises to the height of a two-story building.

"Then you can stop," I tell her. "Obviously it's enough."

"Oh, it's never enough," she says. "After all, what's one town when I still have the whole world? I was never able to get that done the last time."

"You won't, if I can help it," I say, and I shoot forward.

She grins and turns the dial on her guitar. "Which is why you need a little distraction," she says. She strums the guitar in my direction. A huge, red-hot blast is fired. I easily avoid it.

"Hah!" I laugh. "You missed me."

"I wasn't aiming for you, dipstick!" Ember says, smiling.

My eyes follow the beam as it heads straight for Sam and Tucker. It hits the target, the light too bright for me to see if they're okay.

"You have fun with that," she comments. "Now I've got a tour to plan."

She disappears in a puff of stage smoke.

I'll deal with her later. Right now, all I'm worrying about is my friends.

The crowd is in an uproar, wondering where their precious Ember McLain has disappeared to.

"Don't worry, I'm still here," Ember's voice says through the speakers. "Come back tomorrow night for the kickoff to Recall. Later!"

In the blink of an eye, the whole concert stage is gone. People are still saying her name, but are very confused as to how all that stuff was taken down so quick. Huh, maybe because Ember's a _ghost_?

I race over to where Sam and Tucker where. I can't find them.

"Hey, guys!" I call out. "Are you alright?"

There's a rustle in the bushes. Tucker emerges, slightly disheveled.

"I think I'm okay," he says. "But I can't say the same for Luanne." He shows he his cracked and dented PDA.

"Were you hit?" I ask.

"No, I just got shoved from the energy of the blast," he explains. He straightens out his back. "I would've been toast, though, if Sam hadn't pushed me out of the way."

Both of our eyes widen. "Sam!"

Where they were standing is already covered in people going home, but they're all avoiding one spot in particular. They're not paying any attention to the spot, though. People get maimed every day around here.

As soon as the crowd dissipates I lock my eyes on a bruised Sam. Her hair is messed up and she's gritting her teeth. The CD player and Fenton Phones lie soon fifteen feet away from her. We run over.

"Are you okay?" Tucker asks.

"Nrrrrmmmghhhh," is our response. She turns to her side.

"We better get her home," I tell him.

"You're the one who can fly, dude," Tucker points out. "Not me. Besides, I'm pretty scraped up myself."

"Right," I say. I scoop my arms under Sam and pick her up. I look over to Tucker. "Get onto my back. I'll take you two home. It's the least I can do for getting you hurt in all of us."

He looks around, like he's hoping I was talking to someone else. I wish I was, Tuck. I wish I was.

He hesitantly climbs on, wrapping her arms around my neck awkwardly. "We can never speak of this," he says.

I nod. "Agreed."

I drop Tucker off first, leaving him with his first aid kit and collection of video games. I'd stay to help, but he's not the one who's unconscious.

Phasing through her bedroom wall I set Sam down on her bed. I quickly patch her up and check to see that if her parents are still away on their "business trip" (otherwise known as Tahiti).

I call Tucker and ask how he's doing. He says that he got into some trouble with his parents, but he just blamed the cat instead. Do they even have a cat?

I remind him that Ember's kickoff concert in tomorrow night and say that I'll see him at school later.

Sam still hasn't woken up yet. I know I should let her rest, but it's worrying me. Maybe I can just make sure I haven't done anything worth a trip to the hospital. Then this sudden wave of guilt would be weaker.

I walk up to her side and start nudging her, shaking her slightly.

"Sam," I whisper. "Hey, Sam."

"Nrrrnnngghhhh….what?" she breathes. She turns to me. Everything's fine.

Until she opens her eyes.

No, they're not red or green. No, they don't have a whole serpent-thing going on. For a split second they look normal, but then her whole expression just goes to amorous. Like, little bubbly black Goth hearts continuously popping above her head amorous.

But maybe it was just a trick of the light.

"Oh, hey Danny," she says. Her tone is different. It's not dismissive or casual like usual. It sounds surprised and intrigued.

"Hey Sam," I say. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Now go back to sleep."

She smiles drowsily. "Okay."

"See you tomorrow," I tell her. Everything is fine. Tucker and Sam are fine. I'm fine. We're going to kick Ember's butt tomorrow and nothing can stop me.

So why do I have this ominous feeling growing in the pit of my stomach?

**#**

I sigh as I slam my locker closed. Jazz was blasting Ember all night, and even with the Fenton Sound Blockers (also known as your everyday ear plugs) I couldn't fall asleep. She should know not to fall under Ember's spell, I told her about Ember being a ghost! But does she listen? No. Sometimes I think _I'm_ the older brother.

"Dude, are you okay?" Tucker asks. He's got a bandage over his cheek and a couple bruises. My guilt escalates. "You look wiped."

"Yes, having your sister violate your ears and the fact that I got you two hurt can do that," I answer. I look around. "Have you seen Sam?"

He shakes his head. "No, not yet. She's always early, too."

"I know, that's what's worrying me," I admit. I sling my backpack over my shoulder. "What if her injuries were too bad? What she's in a coma? What if-"

"Whoa, stop, Danny," Tucker says. "Just stop worrying about your girlfriend, okay?"

"Stop teasing, Tucker," I respond. I glare at him. "Sam's not my girlfriend."

We start walking to class, trying to reassure ourselves that Sam's fine and she's probably waiting for us impatiently over in French class. That is, until we start hearing the catcalls.

"Tucker! Danny!" a voice calls from behind.

I turn around to see Sam. Only she's not normal, everyday Sam. She's like…Sam 2.0, I guess. She's still herself, but she's amped it up.

Instead of her crop top, skirt, and leggings, she's got fishnet fingerless gloves, black skinny jeans, and a purple corset-ish top. She's still got the combat boots, because she always has the combat boots. Sometimes, during sleepovers, she even sleeps in them.

And I only have one word to respond to this:

Wow.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she says.

"Betcha wish she was your girlfriend now," Tucker snickers, but he's equally dazed.

I jab him with my elbow. "Hey Sam," I say weakly. What's with my voice? I feel like I can't speak. "You look…" I was going to say hot, but that'd be awkward. "…different."

"Different?" Tucker repeats. He turns to Sam. "You look awesome!"

She smiles. "So you like it?"

"I—I…well, I, uh, I guess, but-"

"He likes it," Tucker answers for me. "So what's with the wardrobe change?"

"Oh, I was bored and thought 'Hey, why not spice it up a little?'" Maybe I'm just hallucinating, but I swear that she's staring at me through all of this. "After all, I wear the same thing almost every day."

"Well, you sure accomplished the spicing," someone says.

Wait…I think that someone was me.

_Crap crap crap crap crap._

I expect her to slap me, call me out, or even just walk away and call me a pig. Those are normal Sam things. But she just giggles.

"Good to know," she says, smiling. The bell rings. "Better not be late to class. See you later…" She says it in an almost whisper, lowering her eyelids and looking at me before walking off.

"Is it just me or is Sam acting weird?" I ask Tucker.

"Nah, I noticed it, too," he reassures me. "But right now I'm just trying to decide whether it's a good thing or a bad thing."

I nod. "Ditto."

**#**

This day is just a paradox. I think I'm using that word correctly in the sense I am beyond confused.

In each class I have with her Sam sits next to me. Now, that wouldn't be much of a problem most days. It's how we misfits survive. But she keeps leaning towards me and bumping into me every chance she gets. She laughs at everything I say, which is flattering but also slightly annoying. She does very un-Samlike things, like chewing on her pencil and biting her lip. Not that I mind it…but it's just too weird.

During U.S. History I decide to call her out on it.

Mr. Felucca rants on about the Great Depression and turns to the board.

I tap Sam on the shoulder but look up to realize she's been staring at me this whole time. Because that's not creepy.

"What's been up with you, Sam?" I ask.

She puts on an innocent face. "What do you mean?" The she giggles.

"That! The giggling, the smiling, the extra happiness…were you injected with rainbows or something?"

"Oh, stop being so silly, Danny," she says. She punches my arm lightly.

I rub the place of impact. "I'm just worried that being knocked to the ground did something to your head."

"Danny, I'm fine," she assures me. "Maybe even better. Especially now." She sighs and rests her head on her head, looking at me.

"Er…okay," I drawl. I look up. Mr. Felucca is still droning on and on. Nobody's paying attention, though, because they're listening to Ember on their iPods. "This Ember situation is getting out of hand. Again."

"Hmmm…yeah," she sighs. She's still looking at me with her droopy eyelids. And for some reason, it's both flattering and disturbing.

"Why don't we meet up at lunch to discuss a plan?" I ask her, trying to get to _stop observing my every move_.

"Okay," she agrees enthusiastically. "How about that old tree out front?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "Not our usual meeting place…" I muse. She's giving me puppy dog eyes, which is weird because Sam _never_ does puppy dog eyes. For good reason, too. Those things hold a good amount of the power of persuasion. "But fine. We'll meet there at lunch. Tell Tucker next period, okay?"

She smiles knowingly. "Whatever you say."

**#**

I settle down at the trunk of the tree and eat the sandwich my mom made me. After five minutes there's no sign of Sam or Tucker. Oh well. They probably had to go do something. Besides, we can always plan at my house. At least it's more secretive there.

Still, it's pretty boring. My mind brings up the unwelcome idea of actually doing homework. I try to force it away, but it's kind of hard to with my backpack open. I reluctantly grab the book we're reading in English class, _The Catcher in the Rye_, and turn to the page I left it on…which happened to be page one.

I'm able to read a couple pages, but barely. It's an okay book, but ever since I've turned into the target of somebody's assassination plot the smallest of sounds distract me. I manage to scrawl down a couple meaningless annotations, stuff like "symbolic part here" and "what does this word mean?" so that I can pass. It's not like Lancer checks every annotation anyways. He usually just flips through to see if we've actually written stuff down. I bet I could write "Lancer is a butt face" and he wouldn't even notice it. I smirk at the idea and turn to a random page, scrawling the phrase on the side.

I return to my spot and go through a couple more paragraphs until I sense something graze against my leg. I look up, expecting a bug or a fallen leaf.

What I do not expect is Sam's hand.

She's sitting on the grass in front of me with a sly smirk.

"Hey Danny," she says. She's using that voice again, the voice that's making me feel both creeped out and slightly pleased.

"Uh…hi, Sam," I say. I look around. "Do know where Tucker is?"

"Who's Tucker?" she purrs. Yes, she purrs. And then she laughs. It's like a deranged cat.

I raise an eyebrow and set my book down. "You're asking me who Tucker is," I say. It's supposed to be a question, but comes out more like a statement. "You. Sam Manson. The girl who's known him since third grade. One of the people you actually care about."

"Well," she drawls as she lazily draws circles in the grass. She looks up to me. "The only person I'm caring about right now is you."

"What?"

She props herself up, going on all fours. The droopy-eyed thing happens again. She places her hands in between my knees and leans in, giving me a perfect view up her shirt. But I don't look. Okay, I glance, but only out of impulse.

"I said," she repeats, "you're the only thing that's on my mind."

"I don't think those were the exact words," I correct her.

She looks at me in the eye again. I have this weird sensation of my brain shutting itself on and off over and over again. One second, I'm wondering why Sam is acting like this, and the next I'm completely dismissing it. I'm repeatedly zoning out and snapping back into reality.

She giggles. "You're so funny sometimes, you know that?"

"I—uh…okay," I answer.

Wow. Smooth, Fenton. You are so smooth. What other eloquent phrases do you use in a situation like this? I mean, look at this! You are practically being pinned to a tree by a girl who just admitted that she's crazy about you. And a hot girl, at that.

Wait, what?

Okay, an _attractive_ girl, at that. Because you don't look at her that way, nor do you feel about her that way. Nope. No. Sorry for the inconvenience. Please leave a message at the "beep".

Well, maybe she's hot. And by maybe I might mean a lot. But I won't give full disclosure on that.

I gulp. "So we should probably start planning on how we're going to bring down Ember tonight," I quickly say.

Her expression brightens to surprise. "Oh, that reminds me! I have something to ask you."

"And what is it you want to ask me, exactly?"

"Well…" she sighs. She places her index and middle finger on my shin and starts to walk them like legs. "I was wondering…we don't have to stop Ember tonight, do we? After all, she has a whole tour going on. We could stop her anytime."

"Yeah, but-"

She walks her fingers up to my kneecap. "And if we wait it'll give you time to regain your energy. You know, since that fight was such a hassle. Don't want to be too tired while fighting her, right?"

"Uh, I guess." My brain is switching even more rapidly. On off on off on off on off on off.

"So…why don't we do something else tonight?" she asks. Her fingers stroll down my kneecap and onto the top of my thigh. They get dangerously close to a very certain area before reaching my stomach. She pauses them there. "You know, just you and me. Alone."

"A-Alone?" I stutter out.

She smirks and makes eye contact with me. Only now I realize how close her face is to mine and how much I'm sweating. "It'd be fun," she adds.

"Fun, huh?" A smile weakly.

Her fingers make their ascent to my chest. "Oh yes," she coos. "So…much…fun." With her word her finger jabs her fingers in their climb. Her inde finger now lies on my chin. She then smiles and pokes me on the nose. "So what do you say?"

My brain has decided on the eternal "off" switch. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

She stands up and backs away from me, reaching for her backpack. "Good. See you at seven, okay? My house." And with that she walks off.

The lunch bell rings and I pack everything up, feeling like my personal space has been violated beyond any means that therapy can cure.

And one question is ringing through my ears:

What the hell just happened?

**#**

I enter the building and find Tucker over at his locker.

"Hey," I say bitterly.

He looks at me. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Nothing," I lie. "Where were you, by the way?"

He shrugs. "Lunchroom. Why?"

"Why didn't you meet up with Sam and I to discuss the Ember plans?" I ask.

We start walking to class. "What Ember plans?"

I roll my eyes. "Don't you remember? We were supposed to meet up over at the tree to talk about how we're going to take down Ember. I told Sam to tell you."

He shakes his head. "Sam didn't tell me anything?"

I stop in the hallway. "What?"

"Yeah," he says. "It was weird. She didn't even talk to me. All she did was gaze out the window and doodle little hearts with D+S in the middle."

I turn red at the thought. "Huh. I told her to tell you. She usually doesn't let it slip like that."

"She's been acting weird all day," Tucker points out.

"Yeah, I know. What, with the giggling and the clothes and what happened five minutes ago-"

"What happened five minutes ago?" He wriggles his eyebrows slightly.

I would usually call him out on it, if it weren't for that fact that what he was implying sort of actually happened.

As we walk into the classroom I explain what happened. We sit down in our respective seats. "And then I'm pretty sure she asked me out," I finish.

"Go Sam," I hear him mutter. He turns to me. "So what'd you say?"

"I think I said yes," I admit. I thread my hands into my hair. "But I don't know why."

"You were the one who said it," he says. "You should know why."

"Yeah, but I don't. I just blurted it. My brain just felt like it was blanking out and I couldn't focus," I defend. "It was like I was multitasking, what with her practically hovering over me and everything."

"Yeah," Tucker agrees. "Focusing on two things at once can be hard." He grins.

I glare at him. "You're messed up, you know that?"

He nods. "And proud of it!" He pulls out his stuff for class. "How far in the book are you?"

"Uh…page seven," I confess. "You?"

"Page seventy-eight. I was going to ask you something, but it looks like you need to catch up."

"I would, but right now I have a brainwashing ghost," I grumble. "Normal kids have to worry about zits. I've got to worry about the dead and the fact that my best friend is acting like one of the Pod People."

"Just use the audio recording," Tucker suggests. "Sam uses it and last time I checked she was halfway finished with the book. She just had to write down some of the points and she was done."

Something clicks. "Hey, she was listening to the audio tape last night, right?"

"Yeah," Tucker nods. "Emphasis on _was_. It was thrown into yesterday when Ember hit her."

"So that means that she had the Fenton Phones tuned into a different signal," I realize. "She was completely vulnerable."

"And this is important because…?" Tucker asks. "I mean, she isn't the t-shirts. She obviously isn't another zombie."

"No," I reassure him. "But remember the last time Ember arrived? And the _last time_ she shot a beam at somebody?"

Tuck starts laughing. "Oh, yeah. You were confessing your love to Sam every chance that you got." He wipes a tear from his eye. "That collection was creepy, dude."

I shake my head. "Getting to the point. I think she's been affected."

"You mean…Sam's hopelessly in love with you?"

"Not _in love_, Tuck," I correct. "Under a _love spell_. There's a difference. She's our best friend, there's no way she'd feel like that to any of us."

"Whatever you say, clueless one," Tucker sighs.

I huff. Why does everybody call me that?

The bell rings. "So what are you going to do about Ember?"

"I don't know," I seethe, "considering that _Sam is trying to get into my pants!_"

The whole classroom is silent. I may have spoken a little louder than intended.

"Mr. Fenton," Mr. Lancer says. "I'm sure you are having a _riveting_ conversation with Mr. Foley at the moment, but I must ask you to pay attention."

"Y-Yes, sir," I stutter out of embarrassment.

Lancer goes on to drone about personification this and Emily Dickinson that as I muse over all of my problems.

Tucker nudges me. "So are you still going to go over to Sam's house?"

"I-" I pause. "Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I can talk some sense into her."

"Yeah," Tucker smirks. "_That's_ why you're going over."

I glare, but don't respond.

**#**

I knock on the door to the Manson house, hoping to see one of Sam's parents and have them shut the door in my face. Any excuse to avoid the awkwardness that might transpire.

Unfortunately, I've never been a lucky guy.

Sam's head peeks out through the doorway. "Good. You're here."

She opens up the door. Again, she is not in her normal, everyday Sam wear.

And again…wow.

Same combat boots, of course, but now they're paired with fishnet tights. She has that dress her mother had suggested to her that she sprayed black and cut off, only she's done some more adjustments to it. And by adjustments, I mean she added a belt and lowered the neckline.

She grabs my arm. "Come on. We're going down to the home theater."

She drags me down there, and I'm trying to figure out a way to snap her out of this. I don't exactly have a Cramtastic 3000 in my pocket. And there's no one for me to kiss so that I can break her heart…and even then I really don't want to do that.

Maybe I can just talk her out of it, like in those therapy sessions Jazz made me do back when I was six.

We sit down on the couch as she clicks the remote, backing the gigantic screen come down and start playing some movie I have no interest in.

All I'm thinking about is how to snap Sam out of it.

"Look, Sam, Ember's blast did something to you," I tell her outright.

She blinks. "What do you mean? I'm perfectly okay."

I shake my head. "No, you're not. You're under a love spell."

She smiles. "You act like it's a bad thing."

My eyes widen. "It is a bad thing! You've been distracting me from trying to defeat Ember! I really should be at the concert right now but you had to go but then you keep trying to seduce me and-"

"Am I succeeding?" she asks.

I eye her. "Huh?"

"In seducing you," she answers.

I turn red. "Well, um, I—I, uh…hey!"

She pounces onto me.

The next couple seconds are all a blur, most likely because I hit the armrest with the back of my head. All I know is that something is on top of me and pinning me to the couch, and that something is Sam.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," she says.

And she kisses me.

My mind decides to turn itself completely off. If it had kept itself on, I would've shoved her off and listed the many reasons why this can't happen and how awkward this will be. But something between the fact that she's a girl and the fact that she's kissing has me stop my struggling and close my eyes.

The hands that once forced my shoulders into the couch travel down my chest and get under my shirt. It tickles, and I can't help but laugh a little, but since my lips are sealed it comes out more as a moan.

I start kissing back try to find something to do. I grab the hem of the dress and…

No no no no NO.

This is Sam. Sam Manson. She'd never give herself over that easily. It's not like her. None of this is like her. She's all for committed relationships and taking things slow. She does _not_ immediately try to come onto somebody.

Oh hey, my brain has turned back on.

I stop kissing her back and shove her off of me. We're both struggling for air, but I'm the only one keeping still. Sam is still trying to force herself onto me.

"Sam," I say, annoyed. "SAM!"

She stops throwing herself towards me and blinks. "What?"

"Stop," I order.

She grins slyly. "But I thought you liked it."

"I…" I trail off. "Okay, it was pretty awesome. But this isn't like you. We can't do this."

She pouts. "Why not?"

Ugh, it's so…girly. Definitely not Sam.

"Because…" I try to figure out something that might shock her out of it. "Because I'm dating Paulina."

She laughs. "Danny, don't be silly."

"No…I'm serious," I lie. She's still not snapping out of it. I've got to make this more drastic. "We've been dating for five months. She even knows my secret. And uh…" Oh come, something that'll completely set her off the edge. "She's having my baby!"

And that's it. Even though it's a ridiculous lie that'll never come true (unfortunately), the little bubbly Goth hearts pop and disappear. Her expression darkens. Now I've just got to find out if I've brought old Sam back.

"You're…dating…that shallow, skanky _witch_!"

Yup. Success.

I hug her. "Oh thank God, you're back!"

She shoves me off of her. "Don't touch me, I'm mad at you!"

"Sam," I say. "You do realize that whole thing was a lie, right?"

She glares at me. "How do I know you're not telling the truth?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "Paulina having my kid? Do you not hear how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I…" She starts laughing. "Okay, that is pretty outlandish."

"Good." I stand up. "And now that you're back to normal, it's time to go kick a rock star's butt."

I transform into Phantom and I'm about to take off with her when she stops me.

"Wait," she says. "Since I was under that spell and all…how about we forget the fact that all day today I was…you know…"

"Trying to seduce me?" I finish. "Yes, please. We can add it to the long list of awkward moments we've shared together."

She smiles and we take off.

Long story short, we pick up Tucker, who continually tries to get it out of us about what happened at Sam's house, and arrive at the concert with Fenton Phones turned on and placed in our ears. I kick some butt, take some names, and suck Ember into the thermos.

But one thing stands out for me.

When I was dueling Ember to the death (maybe I was just flying around, but dueling to the death sounds cooler) I was able to talk to Ember. Something she said kind of shook me.

"Nice job," I commented, blasting an amp or two. "Making Sam fall in love with me to distract me. Because you haven't done something like _that_ before."

"Shut up, dipstick," Ember commanded. "And I didn't _make_ her fall in love with you."

That caught me off guard. "What?"

She laughs. "The only thing this guitar can _make_ is sick notes," she points out. "The rest, it amplifies. I just had to rev up that lovebird a little more so that she could make a move."

I didn't respond because she attacked me right after.

But now, the concert is dispersing and we're sitting on the top of the Ops Center, calming down after what I have to say was one hell of a day. My parents are inside working on a new invention, making the whole building shake every five minutes.

Tucker's still trying to get some information out of us, but our lips are sealed. What happened is what happened. It was a love spell.

_But she said it amplifies._

I tell myself to shut up and enjoy the fact that everything is back to normal.

Or as normal as it can be.

**#**

**Don't hate, please!**

**I know this one-shot was more episodic, but I kind of like it that way. It feels like an extra episode nobody saw, I guess.**

**I'll update next Friday, if an idea comes along in time. Deadlines stress me out, people.**

**Danny: Hey, get back here! I'm not done with you!**

**Me: Danny, I'm only trying to give you a push. Don't say you haven't been having fun during all of this.**

**Danny: I…I will not admit to anything! You're just messing around with me! Now leave me alone! *flies off***

**-ZG**


	14. Doodle

**Why, hello my people. It's been a week, hasn't it? Well, no more waiting!**

**The amount of reviews for this is startling and flattering at the same time. Thank you so much.**

**#**

_Title: Doodle_

_Setting: They're 15. Um…season 2? Yeah, let's go with season 2. Of course._

_Summary: A simple patch-up job goes awry in many ways._

**#**

Ever since Danny learned how to fly three stories high, I can't remember a night I've had to myself.

I'm either stitching him up because he's gotten into another fight or he'll just come in to annoy me. I swear he's such a five year old. Sometimes he just plastered himself to my window and makes faces. Other times, he attempts to scare me (but that was only once. We have decided not to mention it outside of our trio for good reason). I haven't had one quiet, single night in a long time.

Until tonight, it seems.

I check the clock again. Almost midnight. And Danny is nowhere in sight. He hasn't even knocked on my window.

He's probably out ghost fighting, or he's finished his rounds and went home to get some sleep. The screaming stopped an hour ago.

I'm wide awake, of course, being a creature of the night. All my grogginess washes away come ten o'clock. I stay up and read, write, draw, and do whatever I can that won't wake my parents up. Thank God they're deep sleepers.

I got the music blasting high as I let my mind wander. No serious sketching tonight, really, just random doodles. I'm barely even concentrating, drawing rough outlines of cartoons and pop culture icons.

I check my cell phone. No texts, no calls. No Danny.

Why am I suddenly feeling disappointed? I don't miss him, I saw him a few hours ago! He's just out patrolling, like usual. Probably because I don't have the chance to kick his ass when he tries to annoy me. That's most likely the problem.

Maybe I should try to get some actual sleep tonight. Ill be rested for class tomorrow and whatever life throws at me, whether it be a bitchy Queen Bee, a ghost out to kill me, or a hard test. My creative spark is ending anyway.

I look down at the doodle I've been aimlessly drawing. It's loose and a little messy, but identifiable. I've split it down the middle with a simple line, so the sides are different.

One side is pretty recognizable. After all, his face is pretty recognizable, or rather his hair. If people got up close and saw his face they'd know who he really is. Jumpsuit, white hair, and a hand encased in a messy excuse for a flame.

The other side is a lot less memorable. A kind of other face in the crowd, I guess. If I weren't who I am I would've easily passed him in the hallway without a second glance. His name is little more familiar, considering that it's advertised with a huge neon sign in front of his house. But other than that? Shaggy black hair, t-shirt, jeans, and converse. Maybe a pimple or two. He's your average high school kid.

Funny, they're so different to everybody else. It explains why nobody knows that they're the same person.

Of course, I know. I was there when the former was created. To the public, they act differently, but in reality they're personalities are exactly the same. Sure, Danny is more confident when he's got the jumpsuit on, more willing to take risks. But they're still the same C-student, dorky, slightly perverted (Miniskirt Fridays, anyone?) guy. The only difference is the last name.

God, he'd be on me all the time to know that I drew him. And Tucker, too. I can imagine the taunts now:

"All you need is the 'plus Sam Manson forever' and you're set."

"Okay, where are the locks of hair and chewed up gum?"

"The great artist Sam Manson and her masterpiece, The Ghost Boy!"

"Gone off to draw another weird picture?"

They don't even know that I draw. I've only let them see nonsense doodles on the sides of my notebook. No sketchbooks or portfolios. It's the only thing I feel insecure about.

I set the sketchbook on my nightstand, blank page up, and turn off the light as I crawl into bed. A Danny-free night. How rare is that?

I hear something rapping on my window.

It looks like it's not just rare, but near extinct.

I sigh and expect another practical joke, for him to jump out and do something ridiculous.

I get up and open the window.

What I did _not_ expect was for him to float in here and collapse onto the floor.

"Whoa," I say. "Are you okay?"

He looks up at me, glaring.

"Standard question," I tell him. I look at the damage: a couple traditional scrapes and bruises, along with a cut across his cheek and a rather nasty gash on his calf. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Technus got into the electric razors at the convenience store," he explains. "Not fun. At all."

I kneel down next to him. "You think you can stand up? I need you to move to my bed."

"Jesus, Sam, I'm injured," he says. "There's no time for fun and games."

I roll my eyes. "Fine. If you can crack jokes you can stand up. Come on, I'll go grab the First Aid kit."

I hear him groan as plops onto the mattress. I smirk and reenter the room with my special black First Aid kit, full with bandages, Neosporin, gauze, and even stitches. I always come prepared.

I set it on the table and open it up, pulling out a couple Band-Aids with bats on them. I carefully peel off the paper and stick them to the bleeding scrapes and cuts. He winces each time.

"Stop being such a baby," I tell him. "It's not like I'm pounding the adhesive into your system."

"It _feels_ like it," he explains. "Razor cuts hurt."

"You don't think I know?" I play off of him. "You don't see me complaining."

"Yeah, but that's because your Sam," Danny tells me. "You don't whine about the small stuff."

I smile. "Thanks," I say. "I'll remember that."

I finish up most of the job, save for the bleeding line on his leg. I can't get to it with the jumpsuit on because I need to apply the gauze. The cut only tore a little bit of the fabric.

"Uh, Danny?" I ask, trying to get his attention. He's zoned out. "Danny?"

He snaps back into reality and shakes his head. "Yeah?"

"Could you transform back?" I ask him.

"Why?" he whines.

"I can't get this gash on your leg with this jumpsuit on," I explain. "Unless you'd prefer to do a striptease, you should probably go back to being human."

He pales. "Uh yeah…about that…"

I stare at him, confused.

"I kind of transformed when I was in my PJs."

"So?" I ask. "I won't make fun of your ducky patterns."

"Funny," he comments sarcastically. He sits upwards and obviously regrets the decision, wincing at the pain. "I'm not twelve anymore."

"I just don't see how it's a big deal," I tell him. "I mean, obviously you don't sleep in the buff."

"How would you know?" He sounds a little offended.

I snort. "Please. You're too scared of your mom coming in and finding you all out in the open."

He sighs. "Point taken." He looks away from me and turns red. "But I am in my boxers."

"Oh," I realize. And I start laughing. "Funny. For some reason I'd think you'd be more for briefs."

"Har-de-har-har," he deadpans. "Seriously, though. You act like it's no big deal."

"Have you forgotten how many times your pants have suddenly turned intangible?" I ask, trying not to continue laughing. "Besides, with your most infamous visit, I think indecent exposure is no longer an excuse." I feel my face get hot at the memory.

He turns red. "So…not awkward?"

I consider this. "Okay, it will be kind of awkward."

"Exactly," he says. "So I believe we are done here."

He starts to get up, but I force him back down. "Oh, no. I said it'd be awkward. That doesn't mean I won't have you do it. After all, it'd be pretty lame if Amity Park's wonder boy died from a little infection."

"Died?" he asks. "Don't you mean 'finished the job'?"

I laugh. "Nice job. You deserve a Comedian of the Year Award. Now come on. Transform."

He shuts his eyes and in one bright flash of bluish-white, the infamous Inviso-Bill is now Danny Fenton in a black t-shirt (which I realize is actually the one that got spray-painted during the whole Freakshow problem) and blue plaid boxers.

"Huh," I say. "I was expecting those polka-dot ones you wear to school."

He laughs. "Someone's been attentive."

I blanch. "And someone's being annoying," I retort. "Now if you could please be a little quiet? I'm the one patching you up, remember? Don't piss me off."

He doesn't say much for the next five minutes.

I make sure everything is in check. "Alright. You're free to go." I shut the First Aid kit closed. "And you better not come back here tonight with another set of injuries, I swear to God."

Danny smirks. "Can't make any promises," he tells me. But he gets up, transforms into Phantom. "Bye."

"See you tomorrow," I say. And he's gone.

I get everything back to what it was before. Luckily, he didn't get any blood on my sheets. Not that it'd be too noticeable, with them being red and all. But sometimes he also bled ectoplasm, and I am not a fan of my bed looking like Christmas.

I turn off my lights again and get under the bed. I'm slowly drifting off when I hear that damn rapping sound again.

"Or I'll see you in ten minutes," I correct to myself. I force my way out of bed and open the window to see Danny, looking as tired as we was before. No new wounds but wait…why do I keep hearing a faint sizzling sound?

"Hello again," he grumbles.

"What now?" I sigh.

"Parents are testing out the new ghost shield, apparently," he tells me.

I shrug. "So? Go back to being human and walk through the front door."

"Tried that," he mutters. "Turns out they've 'improved' it so that it works a lot like a Specter Deflector."

"Is that why it smells like a toaster?" I ask.

He nods. "Got fried. _Twice._ I was wondering if I could crash here for the night."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why not go over to Tucker's?"

He hesitates, thinking. I guess this wasn't fully thought out. But he comes up with an argument. "Okay, a) you're closer to my house, and I feel like I'm going to pass out and b) Tucker likes to sleepwalk." He shudders. "It isn't pretty."

Ah, screw it. "Fine," I spit out. I back away from the window and let him in. I turn around and head for the door. There's a flash of light behind me, indicating that he's gone back to Fenton, and I peek out the door. Nobody's there.

"Okay, the house is quiet," I say. I shut the door. "You can crash. Just don't use my-" I turn around and slump. "Bed."

He's already passed out on top of the covers, arm over his forehead. I can hear the snoring.

"How the hell does he fall asleep so fast?" I ask myself.

Oh well. I mean, he's above the comforter. And I'm tired out of my mind. I get into bed and turn off the light, finally finding sleep.

**#**

I've always had this weird sense of premonition when it comes to people waking me up. I'll be up a good thirty seconds before someone barges in and opens my curtains. I think it's developed into this purely so that I survive the tsunami of sparkly pink fabric that comes afterwards.

So what? My Mom, Dad, Grandma, and staff are coming in say good morning. Everything's good.

I turn over and almost inhale a tuft of black hair that isn't mine. I cough it out, trying to figure out whom it belongs to.

And then I remember that Danny passed out here. In my room. In his t-shirt and boxers.

My eyes snap open. I can already hear the bell signaling to meet outside my door, as they so obnoxiously do. Talk about unwanted attention.

I prop myself up and nudge Danny.

"Danny," I whisper. "Wake up."

He groggily turns over and looks at me with half-lidded eyes. "Oh, it's this dream again…"

I take my pillow and hit him on the face with it. "No, Danny, get up and get invisible! My parents are going to be here any minute."

"What?" he asks.

"Go hide in my closet or something!" I order him quietly. "Suppose what my parents will think if they see us like this. They're going to think something's happened!"

He nods, still in a small sleep-like stupor. "Got it. Get invisible."

I sigh. "Good." I think a little bit. "And when did you have a dream about me being in bed with you?"

He gulps and turns red. "No time to talk," he says. And with that, he disappears.

The door creaks open and I dive underneath the covers again, pretending to sleep. I feel the burn as my mom parts the black curtains.

"Good morning, Sammy-kins!" my parents greet in unison.

I can hear Danny snickering somewhere, but ignore it.

The usual goes down. Mom tries to convince me into wearing something that belongs to Candy Land and I use a few quick "negotiations" to turn into something from _The Nightmare Before Christmas._ She and Dad give me the rant of how they're disappointed that I'm still going through this phase, and I repeat once again that expressing my individuality is not a "phase". They have the staff exit to go make breakfast and tell me to get ready for school. I slam the door behind them.

I look around. "Alright, Danny, you can show yourself now."

Silence.

"If this is some cruel form of hide and seek I can still find a way to kick you in your invisible nuts."

I think I hear crickets.

My shoulders relax. Huh, he must've gone home at some point.

I concentrate on getting ready for school, which isn't very hard. It's not like I have much else I want to wear besides my usual tights, skirt, and tank top. I grab all my clothes and throw them onto my bed, looking in the mirror. I hate bed head more than pixie dust sometimes.

I'm about to take off my pajama shorts when I hear the window open.

"Hey, Sam, I was wondering if you wanted to-"

"Ah!" I yelp. I quickly pull my pants back up and glare at my friend.

"Oh," he says, turning red. "Uh…bad timing?"

"Extremely so," I answer. "Where'd you go?"

"Back to my house," he explains. "They shut the shield off an hour ago to gather results. I went back and made sure my parents didn't think I was kidnapped or something."

He changes back into his normal self. Sure enough, he's changed into his regular clothes.

"Okay," I say, accepting it. "Why are you back?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted me to fly you to school," he explains. "You know, to thank you for stitching me up last night and letting me hang out overnight here. But it seems that you're occupied at the moment." He jabs his thumb over to the pile of clothes on my bed.

I turn red. "Oh…yeah."

"I can go and just return in fifteen minutes," he offers.

I wave my arms and shake my head. "No, no. You can just wait here. I'll go get ready in my bathroom. Just…go invisible if anyone comes around, alright?"

He nods. "So…I'll just wait here then. Fun."

I smirk. "Well I'm sorry that I can't live up to your dream's expectations," I soothe.

"Let it go, please!" he orders. He face palms. "Stupid big mouth of mine."

I laugh and exit into my bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later I come into my room looking as ready for a poorly funded, biased education as I'll ever be. Danny is on my bed, head hanging upside down off the side, with a book in his hand.

I step closer to see that it's my sketchbook.

He looks up, sees me, and returns to the drawings. "Jesus, Sam, this is yours?"

"Yes," I seethe. "And I would appreciate it if would just set it down."

He ignores me. "You're really good. I didn't know you had a knack for drawing."

"I said," I repeat, "set it down."

"Why haven't you shown anybody this?" he asks me. He flips to another page. "This stuff is pretty awesome." He flips a couple pages as I walk over to him.

"As flattering as that is," I say to him, "I would rather have you not look at it or speak of it ever again." I swipe it out of his hands. Hopefully, he didn't see last night's doodle.

"That one of me is pretty awesome," he adds. Well, that hope has been shattered.

"Let me repeat myself," I say, pausing in between each word for effect. "Do not look at it or speak of it ever again. You hear me?"

He pouts, crossing his arms and still remaining upside down. "Sheesh, I was just curious," he defends. He turns over. "But you really are good. Why didn't you tell Tucker and me about it?"

I shrug. "Never came up," I answer simply. I slide the sketchbook into my backpack and sling the bag over my shoulder. "You said something a ride to school?"

"Of course," he says, getting up. We walk over to the window, and he pauses. "But I have one request."

I turn to him. "And what would that be?"

He strikes a pose. "Draw me like one of your French Girls."

I smack him on the arm.

I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?

**#**

**Ah, yes! I'm so proud to have finished this before I become suddenly swamped with friend's performances and babysitting. It's good to get things done early.**

**Reviews are welcomed wholeheartedly.**

**Until next Friday!**

**-ZG**


	15. AN

**Hey guys!**

**I know this is an annoying thing to do, but I honestly had no other way to tell you that I will not be back until next week. Life has suddenly gotten in the way, what with back to school shopping and such, and I found myself strapped for time this week. I barely got 500 words completed. I promise, however, to return this Friday, once all this hype has gone down. Besides, my writing flair has been faltering lately, and I need some time to regenerate my ideas.**

**Until then!**

**-ZG**


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